Dancing Queen
by Kyia Star
Summary: In the last chapter, SPR was called to an exclusive and inclusive Preparatory School on the pretense of students practicing black magic. But now that they're there, maybe it's not the students they have to worry about...
1. Ghost Story

**Summary:** Being called to a suburban neighborhood in Shibuya to investigate a dreadful wailing isn't the only case that SPR has to deal with. There's the little matter of the haunted dancing shoes, too…

This story is dedicated to Yamikakyuu on livejournal, whom I owe two birthday presents to. Happy birthday, Yami-buns!

A fair warning: there will, of course, be random crossovers with any which anime that I choose. Please don't ask me which ones, be patient and see. Many, many thanks to my fabulous beta-reader, TitianWren. Without her, this story would be appallingly mistake-ridden.

A second posting? What gives??

It recently came to my attention via myself, that not only was I dissatisfied with this original chapter, but that it was lacking elements from its parent story, _Shades of Lust_. The love triangle between Mai, Lin, and Naru, for instance? And that's an important one. There are other facets from SoL that weren't cleared up that also need to be taken into account. So, being the dedicated author that I am, I printed this chapter out, all nineteen pages of it, and took it with me to Israel and worked on it during the odd times when I had a chance. I like this version better and I hope each and every one of you do, too.

Thanks for re-reading!!

**Chapter one: Ghost Story**

_Mai was sitting in a classroom and writing frantically. It was her History Midterm and she'd been late for it. She only had five minutes to finish ten essay questions. Someone—she didn't know who—had apparently had enough of her ignoring them. Gliding over to her, they took her hand and tried to pull her away from the desk. Mai protested fiercely. There was one minute left and she still had one more essay to complete. The person in question, however, would not be dissuaded by a test. A hand gently gripped her arm and pulled her away from the desk. Their other hand landed on her waist and twirled her right into the middle of a bubbling party. The blue hoop skirt flared out beautifully; she felt that she could actually breathe despite the restricting corset beneath her gown's bodice. Her mysterious dance partner stood just to the side of her, holding out his hand to her expectantly. _

_Dance with me, his stance said._

_Her heart beat madly inside her chest. How she loved this man! Tossing back her head and laughing, Mai twirled again, beckoning him closer. As he approached her, she thought she heard bells tolling—they sounded so far away, but so very near, as if she was wearing them. But her dress had silver ribbons, not bells. The dance began amid the laughing faces of the party attendants, but soon they disappeared and she found herself outside, in the rain, dressed in nothing but a night shift; her soaked hair slapped her face every time she twirled, but she didn't care. Her body felt languid and heavy, twirl, twirl, as the laudanum took effect…oh, yes, so much laudanum, enough to dull the pain, enough that she didn't register the frigid, heavy, feeling of her daddy's revolver weighing her down. _

_Twirl, twirl, closer to the lake… yes, there. She spun and spun until she was thigh-deep in the water. Her spins were sluggish as the amassed water and soaked garments slowed her already lethargic body down. _

_Now._

_She raised the gun, cocked the hammer back… still dancing, wanting so badly for him to share this last dance with her… a deafening sound followed and then she was falling, falling, into the black waters that greeted her with open arms. She took a breath and water filled her lungs; she felt her lungs protest and try to draw air. More water entered. Between shooting herself and the water entering her lungs, her body had finally had enough. Her eyelids drifted closed, but not before she saw the weeping figure at the lake's shore, searching for something with a strange fervor. Then she was gone._

Mai bolted upright in her bed and gasped for breath. Sweat dripped off her steadily as she breathed in raggedly. She felt her knuckles start to protest and she let go of her quilt. Taking another lungful of oxygen, she tried to focus on anything but the feeling of being shot and breathing in nothing but water. Combined, they were worse than the memories she'd experienced during the Urado case, and the feeling of a knife cutting across her neck still terrified her. Mai's mind raced while she tried to get her breathing to even out. Certainly that dream hadn't been normal—it hadn't felt normal. Maybe it would pertain to work somehow? Sniffling, she wiped her nose on her pajama sleeve and climbed out of bed. Padding down the short hall, she went into the bathroom and snatched the dully glowing nightlight from its socket; she didn't need to see herself in the mirror. She was sure she looked like hell warmed over. Turning on the faucet, she splashed her face with water a few times to get rid of the residual sweat and grime. Not bothering to turn and grab at her bath towel hanging behind her, she wiped her face with her sleeve, and made her way back to her room. Crawling back into bed, she grabbed the portable phone off the small lamp table and dialed the number she knew by heart.

Lin woke up on the second ring. _It couldn't be time to get up yet, could it,_ he wondered, looking around blearily. His eyes focused on the digital clock. The red block numbers showed that it was far from time, being only two in the morning. Definitely not time to wake up. The phone rang again and he frowned, more awake this time. Sighing he reached out for the noisy appliance, hoping that whoever was calling at such a god-awful hour had a damn good reason for it. If it was Madoka, he was going to see about getting her fired, no matter how futile the effort was. _No_ case or assignment was worth a two a.m. phone call.

"Hello?" he rasped.

For a moment there was no answer, then, "It's me. I'm sorry I woke you."

All vestiges of sleep disappeared; worry surged through him. "Mai? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I just—"

"What? Mai?" he asked, when she didn't answer. He could pretty well guess the answer, however. The only reason she would call at such an hour was if she'd had a dream that was far from normal. "Mai?" Lin asked again.

"Nothing—I just wanted you to wish me luck tomorrow—well, later today and remind you that Yasuhara-san and I will be late because of our midterm.

_And you called me at two a.m. for that,_ he thought, not believing her one bit. "Mai…"

"No, honestly. You didn't wish me luck at all," she insisted.

Actually, he had. Several times. Lin dropped his head resignedly. "Good luck," he said sincerely, "although with all the studying you and Yasuhara-san did, I doubt you need it. And tomorrow, you _are_ going to tell me what this was all about."

"Okay," she said. He heard her hesitate. "Thanks. Good night," she said, hanging up the phone.

"What was that?"

Lin looked over at the doorway that separated his room from his boss's . "Nothing. Wrong number. Go back to sleep," he said, rolling onto his stomach and feigning sleep. For a moment, Naru stayed right where he was; Lin could practically feel the frustration rising from the young scientist.

"Liar," came the quiet hiss. "That was Mai. I know it was."

Sighing, Lin said, "She wouldn't tell me anything—like she usually doesn't. Despite everything that's happened, she still keeps things to herself until she's ready to tell us. You and I both know that if we try to force anything out of her, she'll simply clam up and refuse to say a word."

His explanation seemed to satisfy Naru and Lin heard the door close. _Stupid competition,_ he thought, shifting again. _Poor Kasai-san._ Lin frowned wondering if her dream indicated a new case or something that was going to happen to her. _Probably the latter,_ he thought. _Maybe both._

_Do you wish to send one of us to protect her?_

Lin thought for a moment. _Go,_ he ordered. He felt the spirit summon speed off to her.

………

**Later that day…**

Chiaki was anxious—why, she didn't know, but she'd been agitated for several days. _I know Naru suspects that something's wrong, but I just can't tell him. __**I**__ don't even know what's bothering me—well… I don't know how to put it into words, to be more precise. All I know is that it's centered around Mai. I wish I could pinpoint… stop,_ she commanded herself firmly. _You have something you're working on right now. You begged Lin-san to allow you to start with a teacup today. Focus on that! Mai will be here when she gets here, Chiaki! Besides, Lin-san would know if she's in trouble!_

With that, she focused on her task at hand. Teacups were delicate things, not much power was needed to levitate them. Lin-san told her that she needed to refine her output—or so he told her when she'd looked confused over his technical jargon—which, she still didn't get.

_"Simply stated, Kasai-san, you tried to use __**way**__ too much power for bending a spoon or key when you were in high school."_

Well that she understood. In her mind, she traced the teacup, keeping an ear out for Mai's cheerful greeting. _Concentrate, dammit!_ The teacup was plain; the porcelain it was crafted from was fine, but it was white and—

_--"Boring!" Mai confided to her in the kitchenette a few days ago, as she poured freshly made tea into the china cups. She paused in her task and looked over at her co-worker. "We should buy a new set," she said, watching Chiaki arrange some pastries on a large plate._

"_But Naru likes these!" Chiaki protested with a small smile._

_"Naru has no sense of what pleasant décor is," Mai retorted, scowling at the cups. _

_Chiaki looked at them again. "They are very ugly," she conceded._

_"So we'll splurge and buy something new," Mai said, grinning._

_A full smile blossomed on Chiaki's face. "Okay, deal!"_

_"But let's keep this secret from Naru."_

_"Absolutely! I want to see his face when we bring in a new set!"_

_"It's a promise!"_

"You're not concentrating, Kasai-san," came the disappointed murmur.

_Am too!_ she snarled mentally. She forced all thoughts from her mind and forced herself to see the cup float.

"Kasai-san!" Lin said sharply just as a loud 'chink' sounded in the small office. His rebuke effectively shattered what was left of her concentration.

Opening her eyes, she found her teacher looking at her reprovingly. "I asked you to levitate the cup, Kasai-san, not ruin it," he said nodding to the teacup that still sat in the middle of his desk in two pieces.

Shame flooded her. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I really am!" she cried, her voice holding a hint of desperation; she continued eagerly, "I know that's the fifth cup this week—"

"Seventh," Lin corrected, picking up the pieces and throwing them out. After deliberating for a second, he ditched the saucer, too.

Chiaki gaped at the tall man. "Seventh!" she cried.

Lin nodded. "Kasai-san," he began, pinning her with his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

She frowned. Something wasn't right, but she really didn't know how to articulate it. It might be a false alarm—but then again, it might be something. She knew that Lin would listen, but that required trying to put her concern into word format. And she just didn't want to bother Lin unnecessarily.

"I just don't think that levitating tea cups is worth my time anymore," she told him, flipping her silvery hair over her shoulder.

The look Lin gave her in response told Chiaki two important things. First, she wasn't funny and second, he absolutely did not believe her. "I can't imagine why you'd request to start with them, then," he said coolly. "Especially when you've been able to levitate them for months, now."

Chiaki flinched. _Score,_ she groused.

"This has been going on for a few days now. Your concentration has been wild and unfocused. It's proving detrimental. You and Mai will soon be able to buy new china, at this rate."

Chiaki's eyes widened and she looked up at Lin. A small, amused smile played about his mouth.

_Mai,_ she thought menacingly. _You and your big mouth!_ "Don't you dare tell Naru about that," she groused.

"Mai didn't tell me and I wouldn't dream of telling Naru. I want to see his face when you two bring that new china in. Get something decorative and fancy, just to annoy him," he said, chuckling softly at her stunned expression. He sobered soon enough and focused on her again. "Speaking of Naru, however, would you rather talk to him?"

"No!" she said quickly, a blush blossoming across her cheekbones. She couldn't talk to him, period.

"Then…?"

"Speaking of Mai, where is she?" Chiaki asked, trying to distract him. She just couldn't tell him.

"In class," he said patiently. "She had a midterm today and she'll be a bit late. Please don't change the subject."

Chiaki frowned. Damn the man, he was forcing her to articulate what was simply a feeling. She hated it. "Lin-san, what was the day like when Mai collapsed?" she asked suddenly.

"That's happened several times, Kasai-san. Do you have a more specific timeframe in mind?"

"After the lust spell at her school."

Lin frowned and considered her question. "It was a pleasant day, actually," he began, thinking back to that day nearly two years prior when Shibuya Psychic Research had been called back to Mai's school to deal with a lust spell. "The weather was nice and cool, the sun was shining, and the cherry blossoms were beautiful. I, however, was anxious; my Shiki were the same. Naru was in a foul mood; Takigawa-san and Brown-san both called asking about Mai—so did Yasuhara-san, now that I think about it."

"Yasuhara-san?" Chiaki asked, incredulity coloring her voice. John and Bou-san made sense—they were both psychic, but Yasuhara-san was not. "Did he also ask if Mai was okay?" she asked tentatively.

"He did," Lin confirmed.

"But… why?" she asked, her voice trailing off.

"I don't know precisely," Lin said, looking at his student steadily. "I can only assume that the spell somehow forged a deeper connection between all of us and Mai."

_Deeper connection?_ Chiaki wondered, looking at the spot where the teacup had been. A fine, white spatter of dust was the only thing that remained. Deeper connection… it struck a chord, even with Chiaki herself. An idea struck and she looked up at the Chinese man. _Is he referring to that—_ "Lin-san, are you talking about—"

The bell above the door chimed merrily. "Excuse me, is this Shibuya Psychic Research?"

"It's an interesting phenomenon, don't you think?" the Chinese man asked, a small smile decorating his face.

Chiaki's eyes widened as she tried to puzzle out what, exactly, Lin meant by that cryptic statement.

"Umm… hello? Is this… a bad time? Is the office closed for lunch?"

"Kasai-san," Lin said gently, "If Naru has to greet a potential client, he'll be very upset. You and I both know that customer service isn't one of his strong suits."

Chiaki snapped out of her befuddled funk. _And in lieu of Mai or Yasuhara-san being here, it's my job to be the greeter,_ she told herself. She could mull over Lin-san's cryptic comment later. Standing, she quickly made her way out to the reception room.

"I'm sorry. This is Shibuya Psychic Research and no, we're not closed," she said, smiling at the gentleman who milled around uncertainly at the door. "Please come in and have a seat," the college student continued, ushering him over to the couch. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"Erm… if it's not too much trouble—"

"Mai! Tea!" came the irritable call from a door further to the back of the room.

Chiaki turned to the door and frowned at it. "Idiot scientist!" she muttered, watching Lin go over to the door—presumably to remind Naru that Mai had a midterm and hadn't arrived yet, and oh, they had a customer. She turned back to the gentleman sitting in front of her. "Sir? You were saying?" she asked, observing his exotic features.

She could see the Asian heritage he'd gotten from someone in his family in the high cheekbones, almond-shape of his eyes and the dark liquid color of his irises, but his skin was a tanned, russet color that made her wonder what other ethnic heritage he'd gotten. _All in all,_ she told herself, looking at his high forehead, well-sculpted mouth and blue-black hair, _he's a very handsome man._

"Iced water with lemon, if you don't mind? I don't drink that much tea and unless I make coffee my way, I won't drink it. You know what they say," he said, grinning nervously. "It's my way, or the highway."

"I've never heard that expression before. Where do they say that?" Chiaki asked curiously, watching him toy fretfully with his wedding band.

"Ah," he said, his hands stilling momentarily. "It's pretty common in America." His hand began to twist the band again.

"That's very pretty," Chiaki said, nodding at the corded, silvery band. "Is it white gold?"

"Platinum, actually, but that was a good guess."

_Platinum, yes. My engagement and wedding rings will be platinum,_ she told herself, looking over at the closed door. _I just need to get the groom to notice me, first!_ Turning back to their client, she smiled again. "I'll be right back with your water," Chiaki said, hearing the door to Naru's office open again. Excusing herself, she went into the kitchenette to prepare some tea and their guest's ice water. When she emerged a few minutes later, she wondered if a knife wouldn't work on the thick veil of tension that threatened to choke her. Naru sat in his customary chair, imposing as always and reading from his folder. Lin was nowhere in sight. Sighing, she approached Naru and set down his tea, resisting the urge to slap his head. How Mai managed to deal with this, Chiaki had yet to figure out. Moving to the potential client's side, she set down a tall glass of water and a plate of lemon wedges, thinking that if he was persnickety about coffee, he was probably the same with water. The small grin and lighting of his dark eyes let her know that she'd been correct.

Picking up two lemon slices, he squeezed the juice and pulp into water, dropped the used wedges in after, stirred the water briskly and took a long swallow. Placing the tray on the coffee table, Chiaki took a seat just as Naru closed his folder. Picking up his tea, he took a sip and focused on the gentleman.

"Mr…?" he trailed off.

"Takamoto. Alejandro Takamoto."

"That's an extremely unusual name," Naru commented, his expression bland.

Alejandro shrugged. "Nevertheless, it is my name," he replied, offering no further explanations.

"Takamoto-san, what brings you to SPR today?"

………

Mai wrote frantically. She was on her last question and there were four minutes left. Because of her horrible nightmare, she'd made certain to arrive at least forty-five minutes early. Yasuhara-san had been very surprised when he arrived after her, rather than before. When he'd asked, she simply said, "I had a dream that I was late and had only five minutes."

Her co-worker had winced and nodded understandingly. She didn't tell him the rest of her strange nightmare. Instead, she'd asked him to review again with her, just to make sure she'd gotten everything important. The bespectacled investigator had given her an exasperated sigh and grudgingly pulled out his notes. "I know there's no such thing as too much studying, but honestly, this is overkill, Taniyama-san."

She knew that. She did, but here she was, two minutes left and she felt like she'd missed an important point on early Gothic architecture. It didn't help that one of Koujo's Shikigami was floating around her, curious as ever about her test. Biting her lip fretfully, she tried to ignore the demon servant and wracked her brains trying to figure out what she had missed. She had the cross-shaped nave, flying buttresses, towers? Gargoyles… she didn't know if those were truly important, however. Tapping her pencil tip frantically against the desk she reprimanded herself to calm down and think. There was way more to it…

"Pencils down!" the professor called, ignoring groans and pleas that begged for a few more seconds, Mai being one of them. "Pencils down," she repeated.

Resignedly, Mai put her writing utensil down on the desk and cursed mentally.

"Pass your papers to the front. Taniyama, collect the tests, please."

"Ah, yes, sensei," she replied, standing and beginning to pile the sheets together as they surged resentfully to the front. Walking over to the teacher's desk, she gave the papers a few perfunctory shakes and set the straightened stack down before retaking her seat.

"Settle down, settle down. Midterm is done. _Don't_ get too excited," the teacher warned, when a few cheers were offered at her statement. "We're going straight for term papers. These will count for forty percent of your grade. I'll explain more on the assignment tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, don't forget that we will meet at the Tokyo National Museum. Those of you who will end up missing classes and/or work, please be sure to see me after class. You're all dismissed."

A miniature cacophony began. Immediately, the students who needed to talk to the professor bounded to the front and formed a small crowd around the professor's desk; those who didn't began to chatter and complain about everything—especially the test, Mai noted. _And tomorrow,_ she told herself gathering her stuff, _it will be the term paper after Professor Hisae gives us the details._ Mai joined none of the chatting; she didn't have time to dally. She was already late—she and Yasuhara-san both. She could hear Naru now: "_If you have time to dally, then you have time to file, clean, and make tea. Make the tea first."_ Hefting her bag onto her shoulder, she walked out of the classroom. Just outside the door, Yasuhara Osamu lounged lackadaisically against the wall, his nose buried in a book. When he saw her step out, he marked his place and pushed himself away, approaching her side. She gave him a welcoming smile.

"How did you do?" he asked, falling into step with her as they navigated their way through the throng to the stairs.

"Not too badly," Mai replied, grinning up at him. "Thanks for helping me study!"

"No problem," he said. He looked at his watch. "Shibuya-san is going to be very upset with us. We're both late."

"Lin told him we had a midterm today," Mai reminded him.

"That's true, but you know Shibuya-san."

The brunette snorted. "Yes I do."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they made their way to the JR Yamanote Line.

"So?" Yasuhara asked when they were settled on the bus. Mai looked at him curiously. "What do you and Lin-san have planned for tonight?"

_I'll be telling him about my dream earlier, that's for sure,_ she thought. _After that… I know we were going to go out to dinner, but…_ She didn't know why, but she had the curious feeling that if they did get to go out, it wouldn't be for the dinner they'd planned. If. "I don't think we'll be able to do anything tonight," she said, with a perplexed frown.

Yasuhara looked at her in surprise. "Why do you say that? I thought you two had plans tonight."

Mai shrugged. "We work for a Psychic Research company. We might have a client," she said vaguely.

_More like we will,_ Yasuhara thought, frowning. Over the years, Mai's pre-cognitive powers had definitely grown. What used to be 'could' or 'might,' was usually 'would' or 'will.' _I guess Yuko-chan and I won't be going to that movie after all. Damn, but I was looking forward to seeing that film; it was supposed to be hilarious._

Another student settled down beside them. "Yasuhara-san? Taniyama-san? How did you two do on the midterm?"

………

Takamoto frowned and started when Lin suddenly entered the reception room and sat next to Chiaki. Alejandro looked at the newcomer curiously—as if he was trying to understand why the Chinese man had suddenly joined them.

Lin nodded to him politely. "Lin Koujo," he said simply.

"Takamoto Alejandro, pleased to meet you."

"And you, Takamoto-san," Lin replied in kind, his face betraying nothing at the unusual name their guest bore.

"Takamoto-san, please start from the beginning," Naru said.

"Call me Alejandro," he said, pulling a face. "Takamoto-san is so very stuffy." Naru said nothing and Alejandro's lips quirked into a small grin. "Tough cookie to crack, aren't you?" When there was no response, Alejandro sighed. "My company recently moved me to Japan a few months ago. We're finally settled in our house; the kids are temporarily finished with their complaints about the move—my wife and I thought that things were going well when it started. A dreadful caterwauling," he said, before Chiaki could ask. "My wife and I originally thought it was an animal—perhaps a stray cat. Our neighbors agreed, they said there was a vicious stray in the area. We tried to find the animal, but to no avail.

"We called the police to see if maybe they could find the creature, but they came up empty-handed. One of them, however, mentioned that he thought he heard a woman talking. The officer later chalked it up to the lateness of the hour—"

"When does this crying start?" Naru interrupted.

"At night—always at night."

"What time?"

Alejandro's brow furrowed. "It's not exact every night, but it's always before ten. Sometimes, it starts around eight, sometimes quarter to ten. As I was saying, the officer dismissed it as his imagination. A few nights later, my son woke us and asked why he couldn't see the person that he heard talking outside his window."

A shiver made its way down Chiaki's spine.

"Did you hear the talking, too?" Naru asked, his interest piqued.

"I heard vague whispering—nothing concrete, I'm afraid."

"What about your wife?"

"I don't know, honestly. There are times when I suspect that she has heard more than just a fuzzy sound, but when I ask her, she avoids the topic altogether."

"How long has this been going on?"

"About a month now."

"I see," Naru said. "What about your children? You mentioned your son couldn't see anyone talking—did he hear anything distinct?"

Alejandro frowned in thought. "Makoto's never _mentioned_ anything concrete to me, but he's a quiet child; he doesn't talk very much. I'll ask him, however. My daughter, on the other hand— " he broke off and grinned. "Well, she's another story. Two nights before I made the decision to come talk to you, Ofelia came into our room before Chisato and I went to bed and asked her mother why she wanted to know where she and her brother were. _'We're in our rooms, right where we always are at this time of night.'_" Alejandro offered them a bland smile when they stared at him. "Kids, right? They say the damnedest things. She then asked how her mother made it back inside so quickly when she'd just been outside. My wife hadn't been outside since early that morning to water the plants."

"Lin," Naru said, "please call Mai and Yasuhara-san—make sure they're on their way here. After that, please call the others and ask them to come to the office as soon as they can."

………

Yasuhara looked over at the person next to Mai and smiled. "Mizuno-san, how are you? I did well."

"Yes, I'm sure you did," she replied, adjusting glasses that were too large for her face. "Taniyama-san?"

"I think I did as well as I could," she replied, giving the dark-haired girl a small smile.

"If you'd like Taniyama-san, my friends and I are having a study session for the next test, and the one after that as well—you and Yasuhara-san are welcome to join us."

"You're having a study session already?" Mai asked, looking at Ami Mizuno in horror; her brain would register the words 'next test and the one after that' at a later time.

"Yes, you can never start studying too soon," she replied.

Yasuhara chuckled. "Thank you for the invitation, Mizuno-san—"

"Call me Ami," she interrupted.

"Ami-san. We'll let you know when the test date isn't so far down the road," Yasuhara said, adjusting his own spectacles and flashing his actor's smile at her. Next to him, Mai nodded emphatically.

"Please do. We'd be delighted if you joined us. I'm sure you would be a big help, Yasuhara-san."

"You're studying to be a doctor, right, Ami-chan?" Mai asked, making idle conversation as the bus began to move.

A soft smile lit Ami's face. "Yes. I haven't decided what branch of medicine, yet, though," she said thoughtfully. "What about you, Taniyama-san? What do you wish to study?"

"I was thinking parapsychology. I'd like to be a Ghost Hunter."

"That's…" Ami broke off, floundering for something to say in response to Mai's comment.

"An odd field?" Mai supplied, without rancor.

"Yes. I had no idea you were interested in such an occupation."

"Well… originally I _wasn't_."

"No?"

"No."

"But… you obviously are now," Ami said, fiddling with her books.

Mai smiled. "Well… before… I didn't even know if I would go to college. But that's another story," she said hastily when Ami looked at her questioningly. "Anyhow, well, I work in the field and I enjoy it, so it would be nice to also study it, but that would probably mean going to England. In the interim, however, I was thinking business management."

"I see. I've met a few people who are gifted with psychic power."

"Really?" Mai asked politely. She'd dealt with people who said they had psychic powers, too. A good many of them were quacks. She'd begun to pick up Naru's cynicism after the Urado case in Suwa.

"Yes," Ami said, nodding. "I remember one vacation that my friend Rei booked—she's one person by the way. She's a miko—one of her specialties is fire reading. Anyhow, we went to a resort where the owner of the house was using hypnotism to make his daughter's powers come out. It caused such a ruckus at night."

"Hypnotism to make her powers show?" Mai asked, shocked. "That's very irresponsible." _To put it mildly, that is. Psychic Research Societies have banned people for doing that,_ she thought, remembering what Lin had told her when she'd asked about using hypnotism on her own abilities. "_'Rushing things can overload the system and cause a great amount of damage, physically and mentally,'" he told her. "'Be patient.'"_

"Yes," Ami said, nodding sadly. "She lost control while she was still in her hypnotic state. It seemed like he had a semi-decent reason, however. He wanted her powers to be recognized by a Psychic Research Society."

_I'm sure he was banned for that! _"That's not an excuse—not at all," Mai protested, shaking her head furiously. "A person can't rush abilities—they need time to manifest on their own."

"But it was fascinating to see," Ami added, sensing that she'd upset Mai.

"See?" Yasuhara asked, looking at Mai.

"She caused poltergeist activities and likely something manifested," Mai concluded.

"Would that have been Psychokinesis or Extra Sensory Perception?"

"Poltergeist activity caused by humans is usually PK."

"How did you know?" Ami asked, surprised.

Yasuhara hid a smile. It was good to see Mai actually able to talk about what she knew or had experienced without Shibuya-san breathing over her shoulder.

Mai gave her a bland smile and Ami blushed. "That's right, silly me to ask!" the girl said.

"What about your friend, Rei? You said she's a miko?" Mai asked kindly.

"She is. She's very adept at fire reading. I know she's also performed exorcisms."

"Does she use Acala?" Mai asked.

"Fudou Myou? No, she uses _kuji_. Are you familiar with _kuji_, Mai-san?"

"I've seen it used upon a few occasions," Mai answered, opaquely.

_More than,_ Yasuhara thought, thinking back to an army of drowned corpses, indentured Shikigami that possessed a Resort-owning family in Tokyo. _Taniyama-san is very adept at using the _kuji_._ She wasn't as skilled as Matsuzaki-san or Lin-san, Yasuhara knew, but it was all about practice. _Of course, _he thought with a grimace, _she can't practice except on cases._

"You should talk to Rei, then. She'll be joining us at the museum tomorrow. I'll introduce you!"

"That would be nice, Ami-san," Mai said, giving a small smile. "I…" her phrase was lost when her cell phone began to wail a high-pitched, mechanical rendition of 'Sakura Kiss.' Naru hadn't appreciated the irony in her choice. "Excuse me a moment, won't you?" she asked, flipping the phone open and pressing it to her ear. "Hello—ah, Lin," she said, with a sad smile.

"What about your other friends?" Yasuhara asked, before Ami could voice her concerns about Mai's expression.

"Well…there's Mamoru, too. He's able to perform psychometry—you know, where a person touches something and is able to tell all about it."

"Does he, now?" Yasuhara replied, thinking of the other two that he knew could perform psychometry.

"Yes," Mai said, pressing her index finger into her free ear to block the noise from the bus and the two on either side of her. "We're on our way. Two more stops. Yes, we'll see you all very soon."

"Mai?" Yasuhara asked.

"That was Lin," she replied, disconnecting from the call and shoving the phone back into her bag.

"Ah," he said, looking at her meaningfully. "Guess you were right after all."

Mai gave him a dry smile. "So it would seem."

"Ami-san was just telling me that her best friend's boyfriend is able to perform psychometry."

"I don't understand exactly how it works, however. There are no good books explaining it that I've found. I have asked him once or twice, but he doesn't really know how to explain it, either."

This question, Mai felt she could answer relatively well. "Psychometry…" She didn't get the chance to go further. "Ah! Ami-san! Your stop!"

Looking out the window, she saw that Mai was correct. And she hadn't signaled the driver that she needed to get off. "Oh! Driver!" she cried. "Please stop!"

The driver came to a screeching stop, pitching the bus and its occupants forward. Standing, Ami walked calmly to the doors and with a final wave at Mai and Yasuhara, descended the steps before dashing off towards another bus. Muttering rudely under his breath, the driver got the bus moving again and Yasuhara looked at Mai incredulously. "What?" she asked.

"I always thought Mizuno-san was very shy," he said. "She doesn't talk very much in class and seems to only interact with her circle of friends."

"I thought the same. I guess we were wrong."

"So? What's this case going to be about?"

Mai simply shrugged.

"You're no fun," he complained.

"Sorry," she deadpanned.

"That's okay; I'm rather glad for it."

"Why's that?" Mai asked, quirking her brow at her associate.

"Things were getting boring around the office."

Mai laughed.

………

When Lin returned, Naru nodded to their prospective client. "Is there more?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Alejandro said.

"Is there a specific place that this occurs?"

Alejandro shrugged. "I'm not really sure what you mean by specific place, per se. I'd say no. The police officer was near our neighbor's house when he thought he heard the talking. Makoto's room and Ofelia's room are on opposite ends of the house—our room is right in the middle of the two. I don't think there's anything special there, either. It's a nice neighborhood, Hiroo. I'd say it's the only part of the move that the kids like—the houses are very similar to what we had in America."

"Have the neighbors commented about whispering or talking?" Naru asked.

Alejandro blinked. "I… haven't asked them," he said, sheepishly.

"Kids talk to each other," Lin said suddenly. "Have your son or daughter mentioned anything the neighborhood kids might have heard?"

"They haven't, but that doesn't mean anything."

Naru made a mental note to send Mai and Yasuhara-san to interview the neighbors. Surely they or the kids had heard something.

"Did you contact anyone for an exorcism?" Chiaki asked.

He turned to her. "My wife did, yes. There's a temple not very far away. I'm afraid that the head priest was unable to do anything."

"Why is that?" Lin asked. He'd seen Takigawa-san achieve some awesome feats. Unless the priest in question just wasn't worth his weight in salt, an exorcism should have been a success—or at least brought some modicum of peace.

Their client shrugged. "He didn't offer us any explanations."

Lin could hear Takigawa-san now and began to dread when that would become a reality.

"Takamoto-san, do you have rooms to spare?" Naru asked as the door to the office opened, admitting Mai and Yasuhara into the office.

"At least tell me where we're going!" Yasuhara pleaded.

Mai flushed when all eyes turned to her and Yasuhara. "Shh!" she cried, waving her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. Chiaki stifled a giggle, Lin blinked, and Naru aimed a reproving glare at his two investigators.

Naru turned back to their client, waiting.

The question finally sank in and a large, grateful smile spread on Alejandro's face. "You're taking my case? Really? Thank you, Shibuya-san, thank you! Of course I have room—but… you'll have to forgive any…messes. We're not quite finished unpacking."

"We'll need a room we can use for a base," Naru continued as if he hadn't heard the man. "A place where we can set up computers and other equipment. We'll also need rooms we can use for sleeping and what not. Three rooms total—base and two rooms that the ladies and men can share."

"Of course. When should we expect you?"

Naru looked at Mai, Yasuhara, and Chiaki. He made a mental note to talk to Chiaki when their client was gone. Mai shared a look with the bespectacled boy beside her. "Our class is meeting at the Tokyo National Museum tomorrow near Ueno Park. There's an exhibition that's going to be part of our term papers, apparently," Yasuhara said.

Naru nodded and then looked back at Chiaki. She had an odd look on her face that he couldn't place and was looking at Mai with a perplexed expression.

"Chiaki-chan?" Mai asked.

"My class… is also meeting at the Tokyo National Museum in Ueno tomorrow."

Naru drummed his fingers against the table in frustration. That was complicated.

"It's the Civil War Exhibition, right?" Takamoto asked, suddenly.

Chiaki nodded, surprised.

"I thought so. It's well done, you'll like it—maybe. My family and I went there last weekend."

"You took your kids there?" Chiaki asked. "Isn't that a bit much for your daughter?"

Alejandro looked amused. "Ofelia's seven, not two and despite my obvious ethnic heritage, Miss Kasai, I am American—born and raised, might I add," he said deliberately in English. "So is my wife," he continued in Japanese. "Makoto and Ofelia are also American by birth. The Civil War, tragic and bloody as it was, is an important aspect of their heritage. So I took them to see what helped shape America."

Chiaki blushed and ducked her head.

"Well," Mai said to Yasuhara-san. "At least we know what exhibit we're seeing. Any guesses on what our term paper will be on?"

"Likely something about the relics there."

Mai grimaced but said nothing.

"Takamoto-san," Naru said, glaring at his subordinates who promptly fell silent, "please leave directions and contact information with Lin."

"Sure." Taking a proffered pad of paper, their client began to write out what Naru had requested.

"Yasuhara-san, please start looking into old records and whatnot. See if this has happened before; check local legends, news, anything."

"Yes, sir," Yasuhara said.

Naru turned to Mai. "Mai," he said.

"Yes?"

"Give Bou-san another call since he didn't answer the first time. Make a fresh pot of tea after that. When you're through with that, help Yasuhara-san in the records room. Kasai-san, I need to talk to you first. You'll join Mai and Yasuhara-san on their project. I want you three to compile a report and I want it on my desk in the morning."

Chaiki nodded and began to clear away the cups that they'd used. Alejandro finished his own project and handed the pad, along with a business card back to Lin.

"Thank you, Takamoto-san. We'll call you before we set out," Lin said.

"Go to the exhibition with them and then come to our house," Alejandro suggested in a low voice.

Lin gave him a look that was part amusement, part annoyance. "I'll discuss it with Shibuya-san. Thank you, Takamoto-san."

Alejandro Takamoto inclined his head, before collecting his coat and exiting the office. Yasuhara disappeared into the Records Room to start their research project; Mai was laughing at something that Bou-san was telling her, and Chiaki, having collected the used utensils, made her way to the kitchenette. Naru watched her for a moment, before following her. He was going to get to the bottom of this mess… before anymore of his teacups were destroyed. Chiaki went over to the sink and began to wash the cups, placing them in the rack to dry. It didn't take her long. Taking out a small bag from a drawer, she put the remaining lemon slices into it and put them in the small fridge. Returning to the cups, she dried them and moved over to the cabinets.

"You've been distracted, recently," he said quietly, watching her. This was probably a touchy subject and needed to be handled carefully. Tact wasn't his strong point; that belonged to Yasuhara or Mai. Naru decided to be direct. Gene would likely scold him for it later, though.

Surprised, Chiaki spun around so fast that she tripped over her own feet. The china crashed to the ground and she felt herself descending. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the pain that would soon follow and wished that Naru was anywhere but in the kitchen. When the pain didn't register, she wondered why. A soft sigh whispered in her ear and it took her brain a moment to comprehend that she'd never hit the ground in the first place; in fact, she was buried against a black-clad chest.

"See what I mean?" he asked quietly.

"You know," she started, feeling her cheeks heat up, "your jokes aren't funny," she finished, giving him a reproving frown.

"That's because I don't joke," he said, frowning back at her. Gripping her elbow, he steered her out of the kitchenette, leaving the glass and china mess behind to be cleaned later. He led her over to his chair and pushed her into it. Dragging the coffee table closer to it, he sat down in front of her. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lin come out of his office, pause, take in the scene, and then return to his office. He could have sworn that there was a small grin on the Chinese man's face. The door to the Records Room was conspicuously closed and Mai was nowhere in sight. She definitely wasn't in the kitchen making his tea. Naru presumed that she was with Lin; he hoped the sorcerer would talk to her about the dream that had caused her to wake them up at two in the morning. It seemed his office was conspiring to give Naru and Chiaki some privacy. Naru didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. Right then, he was neither; he was concerned.

"I don't know," she said.

"Kasai-san."

"No, I'm being serious, Naru. I just don't know! I don't have any way of putting it into words."

"Try," he ordered tersely.

"I feel… unsettled—that's all."

He could work with that. "When did it start?"

"It started earlier this week, I think."

"Do you know what triggered it?" he asked next.

Chiaki frowned. "It had to do with Mai," she said softly, hoping he wouldn't hear.

"How do you mean?"

She frowned and considered the question that didn't ask 'what' but 'how.' "It…I saw Mai come into the office last Monday and the next thing I knew, I had the oddest sense something was going to happen, and to her. It was a faint niggling, but it was there. I dismissed it, thinking that I was just being silly or that Lin-san was going to surprise her with something. But that didn't happen and the feeling began to grow stronger. I couldn't concentrate on the lessons that Lin-san was teaching me; I could hardly concentrate on homework, and don't get me started on how badly I was spacing out during classes."

Naru felt a muscle in his cheek start to throb at the mention of Lin surprising Mai with something. Frowning he said, "Why didn't you talk to me earlier?"

"Because… I thought you'd scoff at it. I'm not… I don't have ESP; I thought I'd be mocked like I was back in—" she broke off and looked away, ashamed.

"This isn't high school anymore, Kasai-san," he said coolly. "And we're not going to scoff at you. Lin was so concerned that he's been mentioning it to me every day. I've been noticing your inattentiveness too, and it's not like you. I'm sure Mai's noticed something weird, along with Yasuhara-san. There are PK-users who also have ESP," he said, steadily. "I'm one of them, not to put too fine a point on it. Studies have actually shown that a person will usually have an amount of both." He hesitated briefly before adding, "Yasuhara-san does not have ESP, either, but he still had the feeling that something bad was going to happen to Mai the day after we wrapped up that lust spell case at her school. We all felt it, save for Matsuzaki-san and Hara-san. That, more than anything, should reinforce that you don't need to have ESP to have bad feelings."

Chiaki looked down at her hands, taking time to absorb what he'd said. "I'm sorry," she said, softly, looking up at him. "I should stop being silly and tell Mai, shouldn't I?"

"Yes. You owe it to her, especially because she's noticed that something isn't right. Advanced warning is always appreciated in this business, you know."

Giving a ghost of a smile, she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. "I'll go talk to Mai."

Naru held her back. "She's likely in the Records Room. Clean the broken china up first before you do."

Blinking back tears, Chiaki managed to nod her head before practically fleeing back to the kitchen. Naru watched her go with a frown; he hadn't missed the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. Somehow, he didn't think that he'd gotten to the bottom of everything that was bothering her. Had he overlooked something, he wondered, looking over to Lin's office. The young president wondered if he'd been too harsh with her. Really, she was as bad as Mai when it came to keeping secrets.

_Idiot scientist,_ came the sigh. _That's not the problem._

Blinking, Naru dug the mirror he and Gene used to communicate out of his pocket and peered into it. What seemed to be his own face stared back. The gentle smile that was almost always present was the only distinguishing feature that it was Eugene and not simply his reflection.

_All right, what's wrong with her?_

The smile disappeared and an incredulous look replaced it. _You idiot scientist! You're so totally clueless I'm almost ashamed._

_Are you going to tell me of not?_ he asked, annoyed.

_Figure it out for yourself. It's not that hard._ With that, Gene was gone from the mirror, leaving a confused Naru behind.

Frowning, the parapsychologist started to ruminate on what Gene could have possibly meant by that cryptic statement. He didn't see Chiaki exit the kitchen, stare at him for a moment, and then head to the Records Room. Just when Naru thought he understood…

"Chairs not good enough for you Naru-bou, or are you just bored with them?" a familiar voice asked, startling him from his thoughts.

Naru aimed a glare at Bou-san that was so cold, that the monk, John, and Ayako recoiled from it in fear. "Bou-san," he started, his voice menacing. "Has anyone ever told you what lousy timing you have?"

………

The next morning found Mai milling around outside the exhibition room along with her fellow classmates. She gave a wide yawn that the palm of her hand couldn't quite cover no matter how hard she tried. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Bou-san and the others had arrived and typically angered Naru with their shenanigans in a short time. Mai wondered when they would learn. Naru had explained the case in short order, glaring at Bou-san every time he looked the monk's way. When the young man had finished, the musician had jumped up and beat a very hasty retreat, barely pausing to say goodbye to Mai in his haste to escape. After that, Naru had ensconced himself in his office, so Mai had found herself in the Records Room with Chiaki and Yasuhara-san, using the computer to research strange events where Takamoto-san lived and trying to put together a report for Naru. Half an hour into the project, she had begun to doubt that she'd come up with anything. Old newspapers revealed naught. There was nothing off-kilter—except a small burst of crime three years back. There'd been nothing paranormal about it; it had been some kids who were bored. The police had put a stop to it shortly after it started.

So it went until Mai finally gave up. Being unable to really concentrate on the task at hand, she let Yasuhara and Chiaki handle that part and instead started to research into their new client's name—why, she didn't know. It took her a few tries to type it right. English was not her first language—she did better speaking it than she did typing it, thanks largely to Lin and John. _And Naru, too, to a lesser extent,_ she thought, blinking sleep-tears from her eyes and looking around blearily, wondering where Yasuhara-san had gone. She could have sworn that he'd been standing right next her just a few minutes ago. Yawning again, Mai returned to her prior train of thought: why she'd suddenly started to look into Hispanic names.

It had been a challenge to type them; typing in English wasn't her strong suit. In the end, she'd finally gotten it right—or right enough that the internet search engine could understand what she meant. Alejandro was Hispanic; it was the Spanish form of Alexander. Uninterested in the name Alexander, she'd clicked the back button until she was back at the original name. Mai supposed that was when her trance had begun. Without really registering what she was doing, she'd clicked on the link back to the Spanish names and simply browsed, looking at all the names that caught her interest. Ofelia was pretty—Spanish for Ophelia, a character in Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. Carmen, Spanish for Carmel, but influenced by the Latin word for 'song.' Mai didn't know how many different Spanish names she'd clicked on and read about before Lin came into the room. By the time he'd pulled her from her funk, it was a quarter to eight and Mai realized that she was very hungry.

She yawned again and tried to restrain her eyelids from closing. She really didn't think falling asleep in a museum would be a good idea. Something cold was suddenly pressed against her cheek and Mai started. She blinked and looked over at Yasuhara. He held a can of iced coffee out to her with a wry grin. She accepted it with a smile of thanks and opened the top, taking a liberal swallow.

"Late night?" he asked, with a trace of amusement.

Mai lowered the can of coffee and glowered at him. "You're not funny," she told him, turning up her nose.

Yasuhara chuckled. "Seriously."

"Yasuhara-kun… did you notice anything strange about me last night?" she asked.

"May I decline to answer and thus keep my life?" the bespectacled boy asked, covering his surprise.

"Truthfully, Yasuhara-kun."

Osamu titled his head to the side and watched her for a moment—it seemed she was not in the mood for games or laughing. Sighing, he adjusted his glasses. "You…before Lin-san came in, looked like you were in a trance of some sort. I did try to get your attention several times, but you didn't respond. You were looking at Spanish names and wouldn't stop."

Mai frowned into the can of coffee. "Thank you," she replied, nodding. That merely confirmed her suspicions. She would ask Koujo later, maybe he could give her a bit more information. She looked up just as their teacher glided into the room in a perky yellow sundress that made Mai want to hide her eyes—the color was way too bright and she was _tired_. Two men in business suits walked with her, one tall and good-looking in a rugged way—he strode with confidence that spoke of haughtiness and grandeur—at bit like Naru and Lin, really; the other was Japanese and held Mai's attention for all of five seconds before her gaze swung back to the man who was obviously American. _He couldn't come from anywhere else,_ she thought. American was written all over him. Sighing, Mai straightened her back and focused on the teacher and saw everyone else do the same. She searched the room for Chiaki and found her with her own class near the back of the room. Catching the silver-haired girl's eye, she flashed her a quick smile and received one in return. She turned back when the teacher started speaking.

"Good morning, class! How is everyone?" she asked. Mai saw the Japanese man turn to the foreigner and whisper something; the man nodded to show that he understood. Around her, there were mumbled answers—Mai didn't bother to answer at all and shot Yasuhara a dirty look for his enthusiastic response. The teacher frowned reprovingly at the class.

"Yasuhara-kun is the only one awake? That's not good. It seems he's the only one who will truly understand the assignment and thus do well on it."

"That's nothing new," one boy muttered.

"Yoshinoto-san, I insist that you speak up!" the teacher demanded, homing in on the lone student who'd spoken.

"Nothing, Professor Hisae," he grumbled.

"Good. Now then class, this is Samuel McLaughlin. He's come all the way from Georgia to share this collection of his with you. Don't think you can just goof off and not take notes," the professor warned. "Your term paper will depend on this exhibit. Before you go in and begin to ignore the adults completely, let me tell you all the details of the term paper. I expect the students of Professor Takekumi to pay attention as well, because _your_ papers, he told me, will be the same. As I indicated on the syllabus for both Takekumi-sensei and myself, for those of you that read it, the next area we will start studying is civil wars—or wars that split peoples living in the same country. We will start with the American Civil War. Term papers—"

"But sensei, isn't that war very late, historically speaking?" a student voiced. Mai looked over to see Ami with her hand raised and a puzzled frown on her face. "There were other civil wars besides that one that came much earlier. England had several, the Baron Wars, War of the Roses, Parliamentarian War, not to mention Japan's own Three Hundred Year Warring Period."

Hisae sighed. Really, she didn't know why such a prodigy child wasn't in some special college like Cornell or Oxford. She turned to the rest of the class and looked over at the other class standing in the back. "How many of you studied the Warring Period in school before college?"

Mai wasn't surprised when the only one that didn't raise his hand was McLaughlin-san himself.

"If I gave you all a test right now, how many of you would pass it?"

Few hands went down.

"How many of you studied the American Civil War?"

Many hands lowered including Mai's; Ami's and Minako's along with two or three other students including Yasuhara remained raised. Mai saw McLaughlin-san's hand raise once his translator had finished talking.

Hisae nodded and turned back to Ami. "That, Mizuno-san, is why we are not going to study the Three Hundred Year Warring Period. The reason we're starting with the American Civil War is because this museum made an exception to allow this collection to be shown. Now, as I was saying, term papers will be written in English. No groaning! What you'll do," she said, staunchly ignoring the moans and complaints, "is pick one of the objects from the exhibition and research it. This may be one of the weapons, a piece of clothing, a piece of cookware used back then, medical equipment, so on. Notate on a pamphlet what each of you will research and hand it in next time we meet. I expect your papers to be five to eight pages in length with a bibliography. You may use whatever formatting you're familiar with for documentation. I expect to also see an interview with McLaughlin-san somehow included within your papers. That said, happy viewing. Taniyama, Yasuhara-kun, I need to speak with the two of you."

Yasuhara frowned and waited next to Mai while the rest of the students, filtered bit by bit into the display room, casting curious glances back at the two who the teacher held behind. "Don't worry," Mai said suddenly. "It's nothing bad."

"It's because we're going out of town, later today, right?" he asked, as the professor approached along with Samuel McLaughlin and his translator.

She nodded.

"Speaking of which, are we going to the office after this?"

Mai shook her head. "Naru and Lin are going to meet us here," she told him. "Alejandro suggested to Lin that they see the exhibit, too." Here the college student shrugged. "I don't know how Lin convinced Naru to come, but he did."

"Hmm… how indeed?" he muttered, turning and smiling at their professor. "What can we do for you, Professor Hisae?" he asked brightly.

Mai resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _That's Yasuhara-san for you,_ she thought.

"I got your emails last night. I'm sorry I didn't respond. Do you have any idea how long you'll be away?" she asked.

Yasuhara aimed a rueful smile at their professor. "I'm afraid not… unless… Shibuya-san gave you some indication, Taniyama-san?"

The brunette shook her head. "Not to me, he didn't," she said regretfully. Nor would he. Until Naru had a slight clue to what he and his team were dealing with, time wasn't something he gave much thought to.

"I see," the professor murmured, a thoughtful frown on her face.

"But that won't stop us from setting up interview times," Yasuhara said quickly. "I'm sure Shibuya-san will allow us to return to Ueno for class work—don't you think, Taniyama-san?"

"Of course he will." Mai knew there were ways to persuade Naru. Madoka, for instance. "If not, McLaughlin-san might be able to meet us wherever or half-way."

"That's a thought," Yasuhara replied, nodding.

"Those _are_ good solutions, don't you agree, Miss Satori?" McLaughlin asked, turning to their professor.

The frown disappeared. "Yes," she said slowly, a blush staining her cheeks. "Yes, they are."

"Then let's set up interview times right now," Samuel McLaughlin said, looking at Mai and Yasuhara. "That way you two don't get the crummiest times, like eight in the morning," he said, withdrawing a planner and winking at Mai.

Mai frowned. _Is he…_

"What an excellent idea!" Hisae crowed, beaming at the collection owner. This time, Mai did roll her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw McLaughlin-san's translator do the same. Really, the teacher was being too obvious. "I'll leave you two to set up times. See you both in the display room."

"Unless of course, you'd _like_ the eight o'clock time? You're probably adorable at that time," Samuel McLaughlin said, watching Mai with an amused expression.

_He is_, she thought, disgusted. _**Not**__ interested. How inappropriate and rude!_ Mai looked over at the translator inquiringly. "I didn't follow that at all," she said regretfully.

"Would you like me to tell him you're not amused?" the man inquired, seeing right through her act.

Mai shook her head ruefully and gave him a grateful smile.

"Ah." Turning to his client, the man translated that Mai hadn't understood what he'd said. McLaughlin looked a bit disappointed, but forced a smile back onto his face and rattled off days and times that she could take.

Yasuhara coughed to cover up his chuckle. "Playing dumb?" he whispered.

"Whatever works," she told him.

"True. What time did you take?" Yasuhara inquired.

"Eleven-thirty, this Thursday," Mai said sourly. "It seems like eleven has already been reserved."

_By whom? _Yasuhara wondered. _We just found out about this project; he hasn't talked to any of the other students. The only person who could have that time was Professor Hisae…or someone from the museum staff, maybe._ "I'll take noon, if I may."

McLaughlin conversed swiftly with his translator for a moment before shaking his head regretfully. "I usually take lunch at twelve. How about one? No?" he asked, when Yasuhara shook his head emphatically.

_Trying to keep me from Taniyama-san? _"Who took eleven? Maybe they wouldn't mind allowing me to have their spot."

Samuel McLaughlin smiled and tapped his pen against the paper. "How's ten-thirty?" he asked, finally.

_I knew it!_ "That'll work just fine. Lets go, Taniyama-san. Kasai-san is waiting for us."

"You're right," she said. "I can see her just inside the door," Mai said, allowing her friend and associate to escort her into the display room. "I want to see if they have dancing slippers," she said suddenly.

"Dancing slippers?" Yasuhara asked, pausing momentarily and regarding his co-worker with surprise.

"I saw them in a dream last night," she explained. "They were black and looked like slip-ons and they had the most darling purple, bell-shaped flowers embroidered on them."

"They sound cute," her companion said, as they disappeared into the exhibition room.

Samuel McLaughlin looked at his translator. "Did you happen to catch what she just said?" he inquired.

"She wanted to know if your display had dancing slippers. She said she saw a pair in her dream last night."

"Really? Did she describe them?"

"She did. She said they were black slip-ons and had purple, bell-shaped flowers embroidered on them."

"How interesting," he said, idly scanning his planner. _Spooky, actually,_ McLaughlin thought, shutting his planner with a snap. That girl had described _her_ dancing shoes perfectly. Maybe… just maybe… "Annabelle," he murmured, with a thoughtful smile on his face. "I think we've found a winner."

………

**Author's Notes:** And the voters asked for a sequel! I would like to welcome all of you to _Dancing Queen,_ the sequel to _Shades of Lust_! This could be a stand-alone, but it will have references to _Shades of Lust,_ so I'm not going to particularly count it as a stand-alone story. So, where in relations to _Shades of Lust_ does this story take place? _Shades of Lust_ took place between volumes seven and eight of the manga, so this story will probably be a year later, maybe a year and a few months, and will take place after… let's say volume eleven—this means it takes place after the anime because the Yoshimi case was where the anime ended (The Cursed House arc). They've already found Eugene's body; Naru and Lin have gone back to England for his funeral and returned to Japan to continue working. At this point in the storyline of Ghost Hunt, if I remember correctly, SPR has three new workers: Yasuhara Osamu—and by this time, he and Mai are both investigators; Kasai Chiaki and Takahashi Yuko. You all met those two in volume three of the manga; for those who only know the anime, that would be the After School Curse arc. This will deviate in terms of Mai's power and its development. I'll say no more about that, however.

Now…about pairings—ah everyone's favorite topic. I'm going with the triangle I started in _Shades of Lust,_ just an FYI_._ However, I would also like to remind each and every one of you that _Ghost Hunt_ itself is not a romantically inclined story. Its main genre is horror and thriller— **not **romance. That's not to say there won't be any romance, but…I know many of you are hoping for your pairing of choice—please don't be disappointed if they don't happen, and please don't drop me hints about which pairing y'all happen to ship, because I'm telling you here and now: **they will be ignored.** I will not leave author's notes about them like I did with _Shades of Lust_. Have I driven it home, I wonder?

I'll see you all in chapter two!


	2. Dancing Slippers

**A/N:** Whew! You guys must have thought I gave this story up with how long it's been since I updated! No, indeed, dear readers; it just took a while to get this chapter on computer. This is different from it's parent story in terms of the writing itself—at least I think it is. I had less time to write than I thought-- and when I had the time, I had so little energy to do so. But I persevered! And now, I present to you the second chapter of _Dancing Queen_! Guys, please read the author's notes, please. They'll make our lives so much easier. Those of you who do, I thank you very, very much. For those that don't, please make sure you do—they'll often times contain the answers to your questions.

As always, an extremely large thanks to my beta-reader, TitanWren, who ripped this to shreds and made it shiny and perfect!

Happy reading!!

**Chapter Two: Dancing Slippers**

The next morning, Naru called Lin into his office. The Chinese man wondered why they bothered going to the office at all—the van was all packed; he couldn't think of anything that they'd missed. The sooner they got to The Tokyo National Museum, the sooner they could be on their way to their client's house in Hiroo.

"We should be going soon," Lin said, easing himself into one of the chairs despite his words. The chairs were a new addition, courtesy of Madoka. According to her, they made the office seem more professional. Personally, Lin believed that she got the chairs for the office so she had a place to sit when she was inside Naru's personal domain.

"We've a little time yet," Naru said, handing over a single sheet of paper.

"Yasuhara-san's report?" Lin asked, taking it and looking at it. He tried to stifle a snigger. On the paper was a single, neatly typed paragraph in English.

"Yes. His report, such as it is."

Lin handed the paper back. "I don't know why you expected differently," he remarked.

"You know I don't like going in blind," Naru replied, tapping his finger on the desk.

"And that's why you were up all night," Lin said.

Naru didn't have to deny it. He was certain that Lin had noticed the glare from the computer and the muted light from a small desk lamp that had shined through at the bottom of the door separating their rooms. "I've been looking into ghosts that are mostly after children," he said, reaching for his customary file folder and handing it over to Lin.

Curious, Lin opened it and looked at the list that Naru had compiled. It started off as a long, unfocused mass and gradually diminished as Naru considered what he knew about each creature he'd listed. The final list on the second page was surprisingly small. _Then again, maybe it's not so surprising,_ Lin thought, looking it over. What the client had described would fit a very limited number of stories.

_**Kuei**__,_ he thought, seeing them listed as a second possibility. A name for Chinese demons—really, a malevolent spirit that instead of becoming a _shen_ and ascending to the spirit world, stayed in the grave, due to the family not giving it enough offerings. As malevolent spirits, they were thought to bring misfortune, illness, and death. A thoughtful frown crossed his face and he pointed to the name. "That's pretty broad," he commented, tapping the entry with one long, tapered finger.

Naru nodded. "Anything about them that might be relevant?" he asked.

Lin reached for a pen. "The legends from Xiamen state that _kuei_ ride spectral horses and bring disease to children. Once they've infected children, they try to take their souls." He looked at the list again. Willow trees. Unlikely—but… _there's a legend that says a Willow Tree will follow people and mutter, should they be out late in the night_. Fairy trees that muttered… _Then again, many faeries from the West can be equated with Kamis here in the East._ Maybe it was a god of some sort. Lin hoped not; the last time they'd dealt with a god, the results hadn't been good. "Kappas." Frowning, Lin circled the water demons. Peg Powler and Jenny Greenteeth, he noticed were crossed off already. Lin supposed that kappas would be the Japanese equivalent of the two water demons from the UK area. "Let's put Kappas to a backburner. They go after children, true enough, but they're water demons. I'm not sure why you haven't crossed off The Headless Woman; she's a Lancashire boogey—I doubt it's here in Japan and I'm not sure it has a Japanese equivalent," he said, crossing it off. "Besides, that one usually targets inebriated men. Namahage are disciplinary demons—they encourage kids to behave, ironically enough. Still, like you I'm not willing to rule that out. Same thing could be said of Raw Head and Bloody Bones. But let's cross that one off—it's indigenous to England. The Kuchisake-Onna?" Lin asked, pausing at that specter and looking to Naru for an explanation.

"Her story started in the Heian period, but there was a surge of spottings that people claimed was the Kuchisake-Onna in 1979. That creature was said to go after children, specifically."

Lin frowned and tapped the paper with the pen. "It might be a Kuchisake-Onna." He had a feeling, however, that while it might be close to a Kuchisake-Onna, it wasn't. He handed the list back to Naru. "We should get going. The sooner we pick up Yasuhara-san and the others, the sooner we can solve this case. Bou-san said he'd pick up Hara-san and meet us there; Brown-san should arrive at Takamoto-san's house this evening, as well."

"And Matsuzaki-san?"

"She said she'd meet us at the museum."

"Did Mai say anything about her dream yesterday?" Naru asked, changing the subject.

"No. She didn't say anything about her trance, either. We're just going to have to wait until she tells us. You know that. Now," Lin said, standing. "No more dawdling. Let's get moving."

………

_For a private collection, this is rather extensive,_ Mai thought, looking around the room. From the corner of her eye, Mai saw Ami and her friends enter the display room, a tearful Usagi in tow. Mai knew that she should be polite and say hello, but after her encounter with McLaughlin-san, a strange anti-social mood had settled over her. At her side, Yasuhara gave a low whistle.

"What's up?" she asked, looking at him.

"McLaughlin-san's family must be very well-off," he replied, walking over to a jewelry display and peering into the case. "This can't be from just one family that was part of the Civil War. Some of it had to have been bought," Yasuhara finished, tapping the glass.

"You think so?" Chiaki asked, looking at the collection of broaches, choker necklaces, rings, and more.

"I do," he replied. "There's just no way one family could have so much memorabilia."

Mai wandered over to the fainting couches, contemplating her co-worker's comment about the family. Reading the placard beside them, the brunette shook her head derisively. _And I thought kimonos were bad. I'll never complain about them again, never. At least they don't make people faint!_ "It might be possible if the family is extensive," she said in defense of the collection.

Yasuhara made a face. "You might be right."

Mai grinned. "That's the most horrible lie you've ever told," she said, joining Chiaki at the old sewing machine display.

He laughed. "It is, isn't?" he asked meandering over to another display.

"I can't believe they were actually able to sew on that thing," Chiaki commented, linking her arm with Mai's.

"Me either," the brunette responded, steering Chiaki over to a display with clothing. They both gazed at the dresses; Mai crinkled her nose.

"To think that women actually had to wear that," Chiaki said, awestruck. It was unbelievable to her… what was wrong with their fashion in the Civil War era?

"I know. All those layers. It wouldn't be too terrible in winter, but how about summer? Heat stroke central."

"Yeah. And how about the corsets?" she asked, gesturing to them.

"Let's not go there," Mai responded.

Chuckling, Chiaki turned away from the dresses display intending to go to the men's outfits, when Yasuhara-san caught her eye. Their bespectacled co-worker was standing in front of a shoe display with a curious expression on his face. "Yasuhara-kun?" she asked.

Mai peeked around to her friend's shoulder in time to see Yasuhara look over at them with a thoughtful frown. "Yasuhara-san, what is it?"

"You asked about dancing slippers right, Taniyama-san?"

"That's right," she affirmed. "Why?"

Wordlessly, Osamu gestured to the case. A feeling of dread came over Mai as she and Chiaki approached, arm in arm and peered into the display case. Sitting in the middle and surrounded by two other pairs of shoes on both sides, sat a pair of dancing slippers—exactly as she'd seen in her dream. Black slip-ons with purple, bell shaped flowers embroidered all over the toe area.

_Well. The display has dancing shoes, all right,_ Mai thought morbidly, dropping Chiaki's arm and staring at the slippers. _Fancy that,_ she mocked, observing the intricate embroidery of the flowers. The numbers were the exact same, six on the right foot and seven on the left—thirteen in all. A chill went through her. _Eh?_ she wondered, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. She looked around—no one else in the room was shivering; some were fanning themselves with their pamphlets as they walked around. She looked up at the ceiling, wondering if she was under a vent or fan; she wasn't. Mai looked back at the shoes again and recounted the flowers. Thirteen. And it made her uneasy. "Thirteen is a bad number," she muttered.

"Sorry?" Chiaki asked, looking at her.

"What?" Mai asked, turning to her friend. "Oh, nothing. Just remembering something Doumeki-kun once told me. The West regards thirteen as an unlucky number—the same way we here in Japan regard four as our unlucky number."

"Why's that?"

"Various reasons," Mai told her. "I suppose one of the biggest ones might have been the Knights Templar."

"That's true," Yasuhara said, readjusting his glasses. There was a serious expression on his face that neither of the girls could place. "Friday, October 13, 1307, two to five thousand members of the Knights Templar were arrested; some were put to death, and the ones that weren't…" He trailed off and shrugged.

"Mmhmm," Mai murmured in agreement, nodding, wondering at the odd, grave look on her friend's face. "That's why hotels in America don't have a thirteenth floor. Hospitals don't have a room thirteen— and so on. To them, it's a really unlucky number."

"And you got all that from your friend, Doumeki-san?" Chiaki asked, suspiciously.

"That's right," Mai replied. "Doumeki-kun is really very knowledgeable."

"And you didn't ask Naru, Lin-san, or John?"

"What about me?" Yasuhara asked, feigning hurt.

"You don't count," the silver-haired girl replied, glancing at him.

"You really don't believe me!" Mai said, sounding scandalized.

"Of course I believe you," Chiaki said, smiling at her friend and trying to soothe ruffled feathers.

"Still," Mai said, looking at the shoes and frowning, "they're the exact ones from my dream. Right down to all thirteen flowers."

"Did you truly see those shoes in a dream?" drawled a voice in English, with an unfamiliar accent.

Startled, Mai whirled, coming face-to-face with McLaughlin-san. The pamphlet in her hand dropped to the ground. Stooping, the American picked it up and clutched it close. "Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" she demanded, watching him with a baleful glare. She didn't notice Yasuhara-san or Chiaki hurry over to two familiar faces.

"Did you really see these in a dream?" he asked, brushing past her and pointing to the slippers.

"Why, Mr. McLaughlin you _do_ understand Japanese!" Mai said, her voice sugar-coated with amazement and one hand covering her mouth to hide her faked shock. Whether or not she had dreamed of the slippers, she wasn't about to talk to him about it.

"Not a word. Why would I have a translator if I did?" he asked.

_You obviously missed the sarcasm_, Mai thought, dropping her hand. _Proof that I'm getting good at it._

"But _you_, Miss Taniyama, _you_ understand English and speak it, too. Which means," Samuel said, pointing to her with the pamphlet he'd picked up, "that you lied to me."

"No, I didn't," she said plainly. "There was no lie when I turned to your translator and told him I didn't understand. You got the hint well enough."

"Oh? So flirting concerns you? Let me guess—it's the age factor?"

Mai rolled her eyes thinking of the man she'd been seeing for a little over a year now.

"No? Then the fact that I'm American."

"Taniyama-san," said a new voice behind her.

Mai turned to see Lin standing behind her. She acknowledged him with a grateful smile. "Lin. It's time to leave already?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm sorry to cut your conversation short, but Naru's waiting outside with everyone else."

"Ah. I understand." Turning back to the American man, she gave a short bow, turned on her heel, and stalked away.

Samuel McLaughlin watched her go, admiring her compact body. She really was adorable. Perhaps he could have just a bit of time with her before—well never mind that. What happened happened. He returned his attention to the man that had interrupted his conversation. Lin, Mai had called him. Handsome fellow, Samuel observed, measuring him. He stood taller than Samuel's own five foot, ten inch frame; and the suit, tailored to accentuate the other man's broader shoulders, looked good on him—Samuel couldn't hope to pull that look off with his slender build. _He's probably stronger than I am, too,_ he thought. His hair, however, was quite peculiar. Perfectly groomed as it was, the long bangs in the front added an air of mystery to him—why did he not push the longest one from the eye it hid._ Even more annoying is how, with that unruly hair style, he manages to look sophisticated._

"I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation," Lin commented, slipping into English.

_He speaks English, too. Interesting. What's his relationship with that girl? Not that it matters, really, but for curiosity's sake._ "Quite all right," he drawled. "She said she dreamed about these shoes, I was curious to know about that dream. But she's cruel, that one; she wouldn't say a word. I wonder if her parents taught her any manners?"

"How frustrating," the Chinese man commented dryly, marveling the conceit the man displayed to perfect strangers. "Hopefully you'll have a chance to speak with her again at a later date."

"No doubt I will. This Thursday, as a matter of fact."

_You may not,_ he told his Shikigami, when they made to snap at the man. Lin was doubtful that the museum staff would be pleased with any damage done. "Kasai-san said that she didn't have a chance to speak with you about setting up an interview time. She was wondering if you perhaps had a business card handy so she can contact you and set up a time."

Smiling at the tense parlay between them, Samuel McLaughlin reached into his suit jacket. "Do you know her very well?" he asked.

"Kasai-san?" Lin shrugged. "Not very, but she's only been working for us for around eight months."

"And Miss Taniyama?"

"She's worked for us for several years now."

"Do you know Miss Taniyama well?"

"Well enough," Lin hedged. "Your card, please? I'm sorry that we have such little time to spare."

"What do y'all do?" Samuel asked, pulling out a stack of business cards, selecting one, and scribbling on the back of it. "Miss Kasai can reach me at the numbers on the back," he told Lin, handing him the card.

"Thank you," the sorcerer said, taking the card and pocketing it. "What do we do, Mr. McLaughlin? Research."

"Ah," he said a little disappointed_. Man in a three-piece suit shows up and all they do is __**research**__. There's something wrong with that,_ he thought. "Then Miss Taniyama won't have any problems with this paper, will she?"

"No. None of them will. Good day to you, Mr. McLaughlin. Kasai-san will be in touch." Turning, Lin started to walk away.

"I'm still curious to hear Miss Taniyama's dream," he called after.

Lin didn't answer. That man wasn't going to hear hide nor hair of it until they'd heard it.

Mai was waiting for him just outside the display room. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and joined their fingers. Tugging slightly, he conveyed to her that they needed to get moving. They did have a case after all. Smiling, Mai made her way to his side and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Thank Yasuhara-san and Kasai-san as well. They found and alerted me. How did he know that you had a dream about those shoes?"

"I only mentioned it to Yasuhara-san," Mai said, scowling. "McLaughlin-san's translator must have heard me and told him."

"I assume that's why you called so early yesterday morning?" Lin asked, pushing the door open and exiting the museum.

The brunette looked at the ground, guiltily, but nodded. "I couldn't tell you then."

Lin stopped, dropped their hands, and turned to her. "Why not?" he asked, frustrating welling up within him.

"It was too bizarre," she responded.

"Too bizarre?" he repeated. Bending slightly, he gripped her shoulders. "How many 'too bizarre' dreams are you going to have before you realize that they're not going to cease and that they're pertinent to our investigations in one form or another? Answer me, Mai. Do you just not trust them?"

Mai didn't answer. Sighing, Lin dropped his hands. "This has to stop," he told her. "You complain about Naru leaving us in the dark about things? You do the same. Let's go," he said, starting to walk off.

Mai frowned ferociously at his retreating form. _Even if that is true, that's not why I couldn't say anything._ "I didn't know how to tell you," she said, angry tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'd just woken up from that nightmare. What was I _supposed_ to tell you at two in the morning? That I'd had a dream where I shot myself?"

_**Shot**__ herself?_ he wondered. "Yes," he answered evenly, walking back to her. Using his thumb, he wiped away her tears; he hated to see her cry and he hated how helpless he felt when she did. He kissed her forehead and held her close. "You don't need to sugar-coat things with us," Lin told her, giving her a chaste kiss and laying his forehead against hers. "Naru and I were very worried about you."

_And that was why I couldn't tell,_ she thought.

"Come on, let's go. And when we're all gathered at Takamoto-san's house, you're going to recount that dream—shot and all."

Wordlessly, Mai nodded. Tentatively, she reached out with both hands and grabbed his. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"I know," he responded, rejoining their fingers.

Samuel McLaughlin opened the door and stepped outside with a peculiar smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He certainly hadn't been expecting to be a spectator that scene when he'd decided to step outside for a smoke. Had he missed that scene, he would have simply believed those two to be co-workers, not in a relationship, if holding hands was any indication. _Talk about one smooth customer,_ he thought, lighting up the slim, clover cigarette. _So, age doesn't matter to her. I guess it was a nationality thing. Maybe she only likes Japanese guys. Oh, well,_ he thought, exhaling smoke to the wind. _It's not like it matters anyhow._ Finishing the cigarette, he put it out in the public ashtray, pulled out his planner, and opened it to the date Mai and her friend Yasuhara had chosen for their interviews. Picking up the cards that the two had given him he peered at the odd characters printed and embossed on it. Putting Yasuhara's down, he uncapped his pen and underneath the characters of Mai's name, he wrote 'Mai Taniyama' in neat block letters. When the door opened he looked up to his translator.

"They're asking for you inside," the man said, not stepping out. He was a translator, not a damned secretary.

"I'll be in presently," McLaughlin answered. "Say, Mr. Ogata, what did you say this was, again?" he asked, holding up the card.

"_Hagaki_," came the reply. "It's an identification card."

"Ah. I knew it was something like that. I just couldn't get it right." Pulling out another cigarette, he offered the pack to his translator who shook his head negatively. "I guess Americans aren't well liked in other countries."

"How do you mean?"

"That girl was in a relationship with that Japanese guy… Lin-san?" he said.

"Lin is his family name, san is a respectful suffix—it'd be translated to 'Mister' In English. And he wasn't Japanese."

"He wasn't? How can you tell?"

"'Lin' is not a Japanese surname."

"It's not? Where's he from then?" McLaughlin asked, too curious to light the cigarette up.

"China."

"Hmm… I guess nationality doesn't matter to her at all, then."

"You seem very interested in that girl, Mr. McLaughlin."

"Well… yes. Annabelle likes her, too."

"Annabelle, sir?"

Smiling, McLaughlin replaced the cigarette and stowed the pack in his jacket pocket. "I'm needed inside," he said, going back into the cool building. _So nationality doesn't matter to her, either. Well, who she is or isn't dating isn't an issue either, because she's Annabelle's prey. You, Miss Taniyama will promise to help her like everyone else does. And only too late, you'll discover that there is no helping Annabelle, because only Annabelle knows what she wants. After that, you'll come to me, because she was my great-great aunt. Hurry back to me, Miss Taniyama. I want to see your face after Aunt Annabelle's possessed you a few times._ He stepped back into the display room and smiled at the five students waiting to speak with him. "Didn't you all set up interviews already?" he asked.

The blond-haired girl stepped forward and Samuel McLaughlin's smile disappeared. He didn't like blondes.

"Tsukino Usagi. And I haven't, yet," she said, fumbling with her English pronunciation. Funny how it somehow sounded regal, he decided. She peered up at him with large blue eyes that would melt any one's heart except his.

"I'll put you down then, Miss Tsukino. I only have one space open, I'm afraid, and that's eight o'clock Friday morning. I'll see you then," he said, brushing past her.

Behind him, he heard a ghastly screech and turned to find the girl on the floor sobbing. Her friends surrounded her, trying to comfort her and stifle their laughs at the same time. He sighed. Really, he didn't like blondes. Going over to the pretty professor that taught his aunt's new prey, he smiled at her. "Miss Satori, Miss Taniyama had to leave. She asked me to give this to you," he said, handing her the pamphlet. He pointed to the neatly printed English at the top of the page where the words 'dancing slippers' were inscribed in black ink.

"Oh, thank you," she said absently, taking the pamphlet and writing Mai's name in the same odd characters that were on her _hagaki_ and tucking into her attendance book. "I'd better go see what's got Tsukino-san so upset. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course," he answered, stepping aside to let her go.

Hand-in-hand, Mai and Lin walked over to the waiting group. When they approached, Ayako frowned and made her way over to the petite brunette.

"You look pale," the priestess commented, shooting Lin a fierce glare, who ignored her. "And you're all flushed," she continued, raising one hand to Mai's forehead to feel for a fever. "What happened?"

"Nothing serious," Mai said smiling up at the miko in their group.

"Oh?"

Before Mai could expand upon that, Naru snapped, "Let's go! We're not here to socialize. You can talk after the case!"

"Damned narcissistic workaholic," Mai muttered, dropping Lin's hand and going over to Ayako's car. Before he let her get away completely, Lin grabbed her hand again and kissed her palm.

"Don't forget," he said, holding her eyes, "you promised you would tell us about your dream when we reach Takamoto-san's home."

Mai turned beet red. "I won't forget," she mumbled, staring at the ground.

He nodded and went over to the van, climbing into the driver's seat.

………

It didn't take very long to reach Takamoto-san's house; traffic had been light traveling to Ueno and back to Shibuya. Takamoto-san's house was an elegant two-story affair with plenty of windows. Somewhere—probably in the backyard—Mai heard water and wondered if there wasn't a stream or lake. The impression that Mai should have gotten from the house—indeed, the entire surrounding area—was one of sunlight, laughter, and love; it was a lovely neighborhood, after all; a good place to raise a family. Instead of that happy feeling, Mai felt a chill creep slowly up her spine and she shivered. To her, the area was shrouded with a strange gloom and loneliness.

_What's wrong with this place,_ she wondered, swallowing heavily; it felt like the Yoshimi house had. Not particularly evil, but not particularly benevolent, either. The brunette raised her hand to her throat to make sure that she still had a pulse; it was thready, but still there in the suffocating atmosphere. She wanted nothing more than to get back into Ayako's car and leave. There was also a tangible sense of something being _wrong_.

Frowning, she tried to figure out what was missing—why the place exuded a feeling of wrongness. _Birds,_ she thought, jerking slightly as she made the connection. _Bugs. Any form of something being alive around here—I can't hear anything—that's what's wrong. No birds chirping, no cicadas, no nothing. The trees aren't even swaying in the breeze,_ she thought, trying to ward off a cold spell and looking around, seeing the lovely area from a darker, more real perspective, now that the façade the sunlight had created had been lifted.

"Mai."

The brunette looked up to see Naru watching her with a frown.

"What's wrong?"

Crinkling her brow, she frowned. "This place is creepy, isn't it?" she asked.

Blinking the others glanced around the neighborhood—save for Naru and Lin who watched her carefully. They hadn't missed her earlier actions.

"Now that you mention it," Yasuhara said, "it's awfully…"

"Quiet," Chiaki finished, turning back to Mai who nodded her agreement.

"Let's go," Naru ordered, making his way up the walkway with Lin right at his heels. Shaking themselves, the others followed him. As they made their way up the bush-lined path, the curtains across the windows on either side of the door moved and two faces peeked out—Takamoto-san's kids, Mai realized. When they got up to the door and were about to ring the bell, they found it wasn't necessary.

"Mom! Mom! The Ghost Busters are here!" they heard a young man call. In response to his excitement, a dog started to bark. There was a collective snort of laughter from all except Naru and Lin at being called 'Ghost Busters.' From the corner of her eye, Chiaki saw Naru roll his eyes.

"Kids," Yasuhara-san said, grinning. "You gotta love them."

"Just a moment!" came a call from the other side of the door. "Someone hold the dog—no, Ofelia, not you. Mako, take the dog so I can let our guests in, thank you." The door opened shortly after that and their client stood there apologetically. "Sorry for the wait," he told them. "We needed to grab Ginger, or else she'd make a fast get away. I swear that dog was Houdini in a past life. Come in, come in," he said, ushering them into the house. "You don't mind dogs, do you?" Alejandro asked, shutting the door after them.

_Wouldn't matter if we do or don't,_ Naru thought, eyeing the enthusiastic Labrador mix that was being restrained by their client's son. Using his feet, Naru slid his shoes off and filed them on the landing where he stood. Stepping up into the house proper, he turned back to watch his associates remove their shoes before taking a look around. The inside doorpost caught his eye. Sitting nestled against the wood was a dignified mezuzah crafted from silver and glass. Dark blue lettering was the only decoration on the casing and combined with the frosted silver-white, it was a striking combination. _On the doorposts of your house and on your gates,_ Naru told himself. _Interesting and unexpected._ He looked around, spotting other memorabilia to go with the mezuzah. A Shofar stood proudly on the top-most shelf of a bookcase; on the shelf within easy reaching distance was a Hebrew-English translation of the Old Testament and from the looks of it, it had been well-used.

"What is it?" Lin asked quietly, stepping up next to him.

"Nothing," he said, turning back to their client.

"So," Alejandro said. "Let me introduce my family, starting with the love of my life, my wife Chisato. Our son, Makoto," he told them, pointing to the young man holding the dog. "Our daughter, Ofelia, next to her mother." Both children strongly resembled their mother, save for the alabaster skin that likely came from their father's side. Cautiously, Ofelia approached Naru and peered up at him with wide, green eyes. "Are you going to stop the crying?" she asked, seriously.

Crouching down to her level, he looked her square in the eyes. "We are," he confirmed.

She scrutinized him for a moment longer, before giving him a big smile and scampering back to her mother.

"Well…" Alejandro started, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen after Naru's proclamation. He got no further—just then, his son lost the battle with the dog that had been fighting to get loose. Giving a yip and a tug, the lab pulled free and Makoto fell backwards. Startled, their client tried to grab the dog, but she bounded away over to their guests.

"Ginger! Get back here! Ginger!" Alejandro cried, shooting a glare at his children, who stood there laughing. "Chisato, go get her leash."

Saying nothing, his wife left and returned a minute later with a dark blue leash which she handed to her husband. Now, the hard part would be catching the crafty little mutt. While Alejandro was trying unsuccessfully to catch her, Ginger went from guest to guest, greeting them enthusiastically—starting with Naru, whom she promptly leapt and slobbered on. Mai tried to hold in her laughter when she saw her normally composed boss, looking disheveled, startled, disgusted, and covered in blond dog hair. Her amusement faded when she realized that the dog mean to greet _all_ of them. She shot Lin a look and he nodded back to her. It was best if the dog didn't come near him. She looked over at Naru to warn him, but saw that he'd noticed already.

"Takamoto-san, please get your dog away from Lin," Naru said, trying to catch the dog. He was as unsuccessful as her master. They all froze when the dog approached Lin.

"What do you think I'm trying to do, young man?" he said, huffing slightly. Trying to catch the wayward dog was always a work out. "She won't bite—she just wants to say hello," Alejandro said, inching a bit closer to the Labrador mix. A thought occurred to him. "Is Lin-san allergic to dogs?" he inquired, watching the dog sniff Lin with the same enthusiasm as she had with everyone else. The man in question had a wary look in his eye and had gone completely still. _Almost like he knows that she's going to growl at him—or worse, attack. But this dog is too friendly to hurt a fly!_

A low, menacing growl snapped their client out of his musings. Shocked, Alejandro looked at the golden lab and stared; her body was taut as a bowstring and the hair along her spine and neck stood on end. The dog gave another growl and bared her teeth at the tall Chinese man.

"Ginger!" Alejandro called sharply. The dog stopped growling, looked at him, and whimpered, before turning back to Lin and growling again. "Ginger! Get over here!" he snapped, when she continued to snarl at Lin. "Ginger!"

Giving another whimper, the yellow lab turned and trotted back to her fuming master with a guilty look on her face. When she reached him, she looked up and wagged her tail before sprawling onto her back and showing her belly. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Alejandro crouched down and began to pet the dog's belly. "You're a good girl, yes, you are. Is there something I should know, Lin-san?" he asked, looking up at the Chinese man. "This is the world's friendliest dog. I've never seen her act that way around anybody. Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Takamoto-san, you're to blame, too," Naru said. "I asked you to call your dog away from Lin. Instead, you stood there. You had ample time to put that leash on her while she was near my assistant. Of course, you're free to cancel your contract with Shibuya Psychic Research. Please let us know before we start unpacking our equipment. Should you choose to renege, we will expect you to reimburse us for the wasted gas and time, including the consultation that brought us here."

An awkward silence descended on everyone present as Alejandro stared up at Naru with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Darling, I think enough's enough," his wife said, stepping over to his side. The dog bounded up and tried to jump on her, but she moved away and looked down at the yellow lab coolly. "Ginger, sit!" Obediently, the dog sat and continued to watch her, tail swaying to and fro lazily. "Now stay—stay!" she commanded when the dog made to lunge. "Good girl." Turning her attention to her husband, who had straightened, she leveled a glare at him before turning to Naru. "You're Shibuya-san, aren't you?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Forgive my husband and our dog," she said, glaring at the lab that tried to slink off. "Ginger, down!"

"Chisato!"

"Please don't leave, Shibuya-san. Please. Night after night, it's the same dreadful crying. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since it started. I asked the Shinto priest to cleanse the area and he said wasn't able to; he refused to tell me why. I haven't got a clue what's going on—I don't know if something's after my husband, or worse, my children," she said, putting her arms around Makoto and Ofelia. "Please don't go. We'll definitely reimburse you for both the time and the gas just because you said you'd take the case. Please stay and solve this problem!"

"Chisato…"

She ignored her husband and looked at them all pleadingly. Naru looked back at her for several seconds before nodding. "I was interested in working on this. You have a room we can use as a base ready for us?"

"Thank you, Shibuya-san! Of course we have rooms prepared for you," Chisato said. She didn't think it was the time to mention that two of their numbers would have to share a room with her children. She smiled. "Follow me."

………

They congregated in the base room after setting up the equipment and waited for Lin to finish running the systems check. Mai rotated her shoulder a bit to relieve the soreness of lugging the cameras. Her back was smarting, too; she wondered if Chiaki had any pain reliever with her. If not, she supposed she could ask Takamoto-san—_Chisato—_she reminded herself, for some. The couple that had hired them had been adamant that they not be addressed by their family name, but rather their given names.

"Everything's running smoothly," Lin announced, bringing a halt to Mai's thoughts.

Nodding, Naru checked his watch—three o'clock—it was getting late. He hoped that the neighborhood kids were at home eating snacks rather than outside playing games. Lin's suggestion had been sound; kids did tend to talk to each other. Hopefully, they'd share those stories. "Yasuhara-san, Kasai-san, I want you two to go around the neighborhood and talk to the kids; find out who's heard and seen what in referencing to the crying. Mai, I want you to talk to Ofelia-chan and Makoto-kun—get their precise stories," he said, beginning to delineate orders to the group. He continued, "Hara-san, John, pick one road around the neighborhood and try to sense something, anything; Bou-san, Matsuzaki-san, take the other way. Before that however… Mai, I believe you have something to tell us?" he asked her mildly, pinning her with a frosty look.

Everyone focused on her. Smiling weakly, she damned Naru to the deepest pits of hell. "I…" she broke off, not sure where to start. What the heck, she decided. They knew it was a dream. There was no need to beat around the bush. "My dream started with me being late for my midterm. I had five minutes left and ten short essays to write," Mai began, giving Yasuhara–san a small smile at his cringe. "When I reached the last question, someone tried to pull me away from my desk."

"Who?" Naru asked.

Mai shook her head. "I didn't see the person's face. I resisted—because I wanted to finish my test. I had one minute left and one question to go. But whoever it was didn't care. He pulled me—"

"He?" Lin interrupted.

"Yeah, he," Mai confirmed. "It had to have been a 'he.' At least, I hope it was a he—"

"Mai."

"Huh? What?" she asked, looking at Naru.

"Get on with it."

Mai felt a vein in her forehead start to throb and images of throttling her dark-haired boss rose to the surface. Resolutely, she ignored the incessant urge and continued. "The dream segued to me and this unknown man being in the middle of a party. He wanted to dance with me. So I invited him to dance with me," she said, giving a small twirl and managing to trip over her own feet instead. Lin caught her before she fell flat on her face. Blushing fiercely, she thanked him and continued. "During our dance, I thought I could hear bells ringing. Considering the orchestra I heard playing, that shouldn't have been possible unless I was wearing the bells, but I remember thinking that the dress I was wearing had silver ribbons, not bells. But they sounded so near that I thought I was somehow wearing them."

"And the shoes that matched the ones from the museum?" Naru asked quietly.

"I was wearing them. The color of the flowers matched my dress perfectly; they were made that way."

"What next?" he queried, filing away the second half of her statement for further contemplation. That bit was important, but he wanted the entire dream recounted before he drilled her about that.

"I was dancing with him, but everything shifted suddenly and instead of being at the party and dancing with someone, I was outside in the rain, dancing—well, spinning around and around is more like it. My body felt…" here she broke off searching for the right word or phrase.

"Felt how?" Lin asked, frowning down at her tapping foot. She obviously didn't notice it, but she'd started tapping it just after he'd caught her from her near fall. It wasn't like Mai to fidget so much. Reaching out, he took her hand, startling her a bit. "Felt how?" he repeated.

_He must be really worried,_ she thought, smiling faintly and gripping his hand. "My body felt heavy," she said, stressing the word. "I recall thinking about how much laudanum I drank."

"Laudanum?" Ayako asked. "Where did you get something like that?"

"Ummm… I… don't know," she said lamely.

"You don't _**know**_?" the priestess mimicked.

"My dream didn't show me how the person in question got the laudanum, just that she took quite a lot of it." She held up her free hand in mock defense. "Um… what _is_ laudanum?" she asked.

"It's a combination of ethanol and opium," Yasuhara said, crossing his arms. "It was used to treat a variety of things—especially in Victorian England: pain, calming people; I've read that it was even given to babies to help them quiet down."

"Keep going," Naru said tersely.

Mai crinkled her brow, trying to remember. "Twirl, twirl," she muttered, swaying to prove her point, unaware that eight pair of eyes flew to her with astonished looks. "I know that I took enough laudanum that I didn't register the rain or the old revolver, daddy's revolver, the person said. So it belonged to her father," she said with a sad smile. "Anyways, I danced my way into a lake, and while I was still dancing, I raised the gun and bam!" She pantomimed shooting herself.

Masako, Ayako, and Chiaki gasped and stared at Mai with wide eyes. The men stared at her in disbelief. Frowning, Lin tightened his grip on her hand and looked at her grimly. "_What was I supposed to tell you at two in the morning? That I shot myself in a dream? I couldn't tell you—it was just too bizarre!"_ Her words from earlier floated back to him. _That was why she couldn't tell me over the phone; she was trying to spare us the worry. And at two a.m. what could we have done, anyhow? That probably occurred to her when she heard my voice. It didn't work. I didn't get back to sleep at all._ Rapid taps in a timed beat brought him back and he looked down at her foot frowning. _One and two and three and; one and two and three and… a waltz goes by this beat. And that voice! _Lin made a mental note to ask Hara-san if she'd seen anything possessing Mai. Looking up, he caught Naru's eye. He'd noticed too, if the grim look in his stormy-blue orbs was any indication. There was no outward response from his fellow ghost hunter, but Lin knew that he wasn't the only one to notice. _What else are we dealing with?_ Lin wondered.

"What then?" Naru asked quietly.

"Then? I fell back into the water. The shot to the head didn't kill me immediately; I was still alive and trying to breathe. But, well… being under water, I breathed that in instead. I breathed in water once, twice, three times—then… I was gone. But not before I glimpsed someone at the water's bank searching frantically for something… or someone, maybe."

"Any idea on which it is?"

Mai looked at the burgundy-colored carpeting pensively. It was lush and thick and showed signs of recent vacuuming. The brunette could imagine Makoto-kun and Ofelia-chan rolling around on the carpeting and playing with Ginger. "She," Mai said, slowly. "It was a woman and I don't know what she was looking for, but… my intuition tells me that it was 'someone,' rather than 'something.'"

That narrowed his list down to maybe one ghost. _The problem with that,_ Naru thought, _is that there are a lot of ghosts that search for 'someone,' as much as 'something.' Still, that's a tremendous breakthrough._

"After that, I woke up," she finished.

"What about your trance the other evening?"

"That? Well, I recall being bored because I wasn't finding anything when researching this neighborhood, as I'm sure Yasuhara-san's report indicated."

"What were you researching?" he asked, ignoring her barb.

"Names—starting with Alejandro-san's," Mai replied, saving him the trouble of asking.

"What names caught your eye during your trance?"

"Umm… Ofelia, Carmen, Maria, Anjelica—maybe a few others I can't remember."

"I see. Why Spanish names?" If she'd been looking at Spanish names… maybe…just maybe…

"Alejandro-san's name struck me as peculiar and cool—so I was curious about it."

Naru frowned and decided against questioning her further. "All right then. Let's get to work. You all know what you're supposed to do? Meet back here by five."

"Right!" they chorused, exiting the den to go about their assigned projects. Lin waited until everyone was out before looking at Naru.

"You noticed, right?" he asked.

The black-clad ghost hunter nodded. "We'll have to keep a careful eye on her."

Yasuhara walked back into the base room and stopped just inside the door.

"Yasuhara-san?" Naru asked.

"I wanted to mention this to you before I forgot. After Taniyama-san saw the shoes, she shivered. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she told me that there wasn't anything—she'd just gotten a chill. It was very hot in that room with all the lights and people—it should have been impossible for her to get goose bumps."

"Unless it was an unconscious reaction to something potentially dangerous," Naru said, understanding.

The bespectacled college student smiled.

"Thank you, Yasuhara-san," Naru said, deciding to have Matsuzaki-san draw up some charms.

Nodding his head, Osamu left to re-join Kasai-san.

"What are you thinking?" Lin asked.

"I'm thinking we're not dealing with the Kuchisake-Onna, but something similar to it."

"I thought the same thing myself when you showed me that list you'd compiled."

Mai found Chisato in the kitchen, working on dinner. Dinner, she'd told them showing them to the den which had become their base room, was at six-thirty sharp. "Ofi and Mako?" she asked, resting the knife she'd been using on the cutting board and wiping her hands on the half apron around her waist. "They're outside in the backyard with Ginger," she said, taking a package of beef from the fridge and unwrapping it. "You all don't mind Sukiyaki, do you?" she asked.

"I don't. Lin and Naru won't eat meat while working on cases, just so you know."

Chisato looked at the meat thoughtfully. "We can use two separate skillets for the meat and vegetables," she decided. "Will that suffice?"

"Yes, it will. The backyard, you said?"

"The backyard. Taniyama-san," Chisato said, before the brunette could leave.

"Yes?" she asked, turning back to their hostess. She frowned when she saw the woman watching her warily. Mai smiled tiredly. She could guess what this was all about. Mai re-entered the kitchen and perched herself on one of the bar chairs; talking to Ofelia-chan and Makoto-kun could wait, she decided. Chisato put her knife down, washed her hands, and approached the other side of the bar.

"You're worried," Mai stated, observing the half Japanese, half American woman that stood across from her. She noted that the Asian genes had definitely come out triumphant—except for her eyes. Those alone made her stand out. Her eyes were a brilliant green with a line of purple ringing around the pupil; they reminded her of Gavin-san's eyes.

"I have to admit, Taniyama-san, that I, like my husband, have never seen our dog react that way towards anyone. She's unfailingly friendly to a fault."

Frowning thoughtfully, the brunette looked at their hostess carefully. Her eyes held what her calm demeanor did not. She was very worried that they'd invited in something that was worse than whatever cried in the night. The fact that she thought Koujo was worse than whatever had made Mai want to run away from the house upon seeing it upset the brunette. Instinctively, the investigator reached out for the other woman's hand and clasped it in her own while she formulated a response in her head. Mai knew that if she told their hostess not to worry—that everything was all right, Chisato-san would believe her—up until something happened. That unknown factor, if and when it occurred, would cause the doubt and suspicion that she harbored to resurface. Potentially, that could hurt the investigation, as they relied on their clients to trust SPR and let its associates do their jobs. So Mai did what she'd normally do in that situation. She followed her heart.

"There is," Mai began, "a rather good reason why some animals like dogs and cats tend to dislike Lin and consider him a threat. But it's not my place to tell you why. The only one who has any right to say is Lin himself. What you absolutely need to know and understand, however, is that Lin is a good man—despite what happens to say otherwise, and not for any or all the worlds would he willingly bring harm to another person. If, in the course of work—or whatever other reason, he can prevent anyone from being harmed, he will—even if it means getting injured himself," Mai said, thinking of the time that she'd first met him.

"You sound as if you speak from experience."

"I do," Mai said fervently, squeezing the other woman's hand. "That's how we first met, Lin and I. I bumped into an empty shoe shelf in an abandoned class building and it started to fall—others followed it. Lin pushed me out of harm's way, but was injured himself after. That's how I came to work for Shibuya Psychic Research. I injured him and Naru needed an assistant to take his place."

"I see. But… surely there was a time when he was unable to save you, though."

"Oh, that's not just Lin. That's everyone from S.P.R.," Mai replied, dropping the woman's hand.

"Oh."

"But… they can't always be around me to protect me, so I've had to learn to protect myself."

"Umm… you don't mean martial arts, do you?"

Mai blinked. "Martial…" she started to laugh and laughed until she had tears running down her cheeks. "No, no," she replied, sniffling and wiping away tears. "Although that's probably not a bad idea. I meant spells, wards. Ayako taught me the _kuji_ and Bou-san taught me Fudou Myou. They've come in handy over the cases that we have. I seem to be the best bait, for some odd reason. But… really. Lin is a good man. You should trust that, if nothing else. I wouldn't lie to you about something like that—not where you and your family are concerned—so please don't worry," Mai said, directing the conversation back to Chisato's concerns.

Smiling, Chisato turned back to the beef and began to slice it into thin strips. "I'll take your word for it, then. Don't be late for dinner."

"I'll see to it that we're not," Mai replied, exiting the kitchen.

Chisato went back to slicing the beef, contemplating the young investigator's words. She'd been so honest and sincere when she'd pleaded with her to understand that Lin had a good reason for what had happened with Ginger. Much as she wanted to know, Chisato also understood that it wasn't Mai's place to tell her why. It was hard to disbelieve her. More than that, Mai's words had made her feel better. _From the way she sounded… I'd say the young lady has feelings for that stoic man. Maybe she does,_ Chisato thought, grinning to herself. _She certainly had that look about her._ "Ah, Mai-chan. If only you'd seen yourself in the mirror," Chisato said out loud to no one in particular. "You should have seen your eyes and expression when you talked about Lin-san. You wouldn't need to announce that you're in love. Ah, young love," she said, wistfully. _So wait. What am I, chopped liver? Two children and eleven years of marriage and suddenly it's just young love? Really! Still,_ she thought, putting the beef in the marinade and covering it. _He's much older than she is. Mai-chan can't be more than seventeen at the most. How terribly awkward for him... Chisato! It's none of your business. Back to work with you!_

True to Chisato's word, Mai found Ofelia and Makoto in the backyard with Ginger. She also found a man-made lake that was surrounded by five other houses, not including the Takamoto house. Scooping hair out of her eyes from when the dog tackled her, Mai stared at the lake, disoriented. _Eh?_ she thought, watching the water ripple when the breeze blew through. It was a pretty lake, but… a shiver snaked its way leisurely up her spine. _It's the same one from my dream,_ she thought, approaching the bank and stopping just before the water touched her feet. She had the feeling that she didn't want to actually step in the water. _Just what does this mean?_ Mai wondered, watching the blue-black waves that seemed to creep closer and closer towards her. Frowning, she moved away from the water completely. Just because the crying didn't start until later didn't mean there was no danger.

A cold feeling slid through her and the brunette's eyes widened.

_**Mis hijos.**_

_Huh? Mis hijos? What does that mean? What language is it?_

"Oneesan."

Mai snapped out of her semi-trance and quickly stepped away from the water. Looking down, she saw Makoto and Ofelia watching her. She smiled apologetically and knelt down to their levels. "Sorry about that," she told them. "I'm such a scatter-brain."

"Oneesan doesn't like the lake, either?"

Mai stared at Makoto. "What?" she asked.

Frowning, Makoto tossed the bright green tennis ball and Ginger chased after it, trying valiantly to catch it while it was bouncing. It was a funny sight to see—especially since the ball continuously eluded the dog's questing mouth. He turned back to Mai. Both children had their mother's eyes, she noted. "You don't like the lake, do you? Your expression said that you found it creepy."

"It's here, isn't it?" Mai asked suddenly, looking at both kids. "This is where you hear the crying, isn't it? Right around here."

"Sometimes it's further away," Ofelia commented, looking over at the lake, her eyes haunted. "But lately, it's been right here."

"Have you seen whatever it is?" the investigator asked, taking the ball from the dog and tossing it.

Ofelia shook her head. "I've heard it loads of times, though."

"How about you, Makoto-kun?"

"I thought I had—once. A woman who was searching for something and weeping."

"There's a ghost story about that in America," Ofelia commented.

"It's Mexican, actually," Makoto said, rolling his eyes. "Father told it to us; he said that his mother used to tell it to him all the time before she died. You should hear the Spanish version, too.

"Really?" Mai asked, interested. "Would you mind telling my friend Naru that story one day?" she asked, shoving the dog to the ground. "You belong there, not on me," she said sternly.

"She wants you to throw the ball."

"But you're holding it; you throw it."

Shrugging, Makoto tossed the ball to her; it bounced harmlessly off her chest. She frowned at him, exasperated.

"She wants you to throw the ball for her," he repeated.

Glaring at him, Mai grabbed the ball and tossed it again. "All right," she said, once the dog streaked after it, "your father gave us an extremely edited version of your stories. I want you two to give me the uncensored version, starting now." Taking the ball from the dog, she gave it to Ofelia. "Why don't we begin with you?" she asked.

………

"And this is Ofelia's room," Chisato said, showing Mai to a room down the hall. "Thank you so much for agreeing to stay in her room. We haven't had a chance to unpack the rest of the boxes from the move, so the other rooms are occupied as of now."

"Don't worry about it," Mai said, waving away their hostess's thanks. "I'm used to sharing."

"Good," Chisato said, smiling and opening the door.

"Mai-oneesan!"

"Ofelia, I expect you to allow Mai-chan to rest," Chisato said, stressing the word 'rest.' "She and the others have had a very long day. And you have school tomorrow, so, into bed with you. Lights out in fifteen minutes. Understand?"

"Yes, mother."

"That's my girl. Give me a kiss," she said, kissing her daughter back. "Did you say goodnight to Makoto and your father?"

"Mmhm."

"Good girl. You didn't brush your teeth. Go do it. Taniyama-san, sleep well. Don't let her stay up and talk with you all night."

"It's Mai. And I promise," the brunette said, smiling at Chisato.

"Good night then."

Mai waited until Ofelia's mother was out of the room. "Ne, Ofelia-chan, what shall we play?"

"I want to tell ghost stories!"

"You do? That's the best game to play in the summer time. I love telling ghost stories! You know, I bet we could smuggle Chiaki-chan and Yasuhara-san in here and play One Hundred Tales of Horror. What do you think?"

"You mean it?" Ofelia asked, looking up at her hopefully.

"Of course I do. But until then, you need to at least pretend to get some rest."

"Okay! Mai-oneesan, I'm going to go and brush my teeth."

"Good. I'll see if Chiaki and Yasuhara-san want to join us. If not, it'll just be us two."

"Naru-oniisan won't?"

"Him?" Mai asked. "He doesn't know how to have fun," the investigator said, brushing the comment aside.

"That's sad."

"Weren't you going to brush your teeth?"

Ofelia scampered out of the room.

_Cute!_ Mai thought, grinning to hersef._ If Lin and I ever have children, I hope they're that cute. If our relationship progresses, that is. Lately, it's like we've fallen out of touch with each other. I still feel as strongly for him as I did a year ago… but he seems distant, lately. I wonder why?_ Mai thought, unconsciously tapping her foot. That was her last thought before she felt herself grow dim. She didn't see Ofelia open the door, stare for a few seconds, and then run off. She heard the door slam shut.

Lin laid the vest on the bed and started to undo his tie. It was one of those extremely rare times when Naru had decided to stay up and watch the monitors. Lin could count on one hand how many times it had happened. Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, he'd left the base room intent on getting some sleep. Tossing the tie to join the vest, he started to undo his shirt. He'd only gotten three buttons undone when a frantic pounding on his door started.

_It's not Mai,_ his second Shiki whispered.

_Then who?_

_The little girl._

_What? Why? _Cautiously, Lin opened the door and peered out. Without so much as a by your leave, Ofelia barreled into the room and stood in front of him agitatedly. Lin watched her, unsure of what to do. Dealing with children was hardly his forte. "Is something wrong," he asked awkwardly, looking at his watch. Had the crying started already? If it had, why couldn't he hear it? He should be able to. According to Takamoto-san everyone, adult or child, could hear it. All he heard was the unnatural silence.

"Mr. Ghost Buster—" she began. He interrupted her before she could say another word.

"Lin," he said shortly. "Not ghost buster. Don't compare us to that idiotic movie."

Frowning at him and huffing her annoyance, Ofelia decided against talking to him. She just couldn't fathom why adults had to be spoon-fed _everything_. Grabbing his hand, she tugged and dragged him over to the door.

"Wait just a moment—what's going on," he asked, bringing her to an unceremonious halt.

"No time!" she cried, tugging his hand again. "Mai-oneesan's in trouble!"

_Mai's in trouble? All ready?_ He scooped the little girl up, not caring about the strange looks he'd receive if his co-workers saw him, and strode down the hall to her room. Ofelia buried her face in his shoulder as he opened the door and peered in. Mai was twirling around in erratic circles and humming an unrecognizable melody off-key; her lively brown eyes were empty and lifeless, just like a doll's.

"I was trying to tell you," she muttered.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry." Closing the door, Lin put Ofelia down and crouched down. "I'm going to give you an assignment," he told her.

She blinked. "Okay…" she said uncertainly. "I'm not going to be graded on this, am I?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "No, but you'll be a big help if you do it."

"Okay," she said again, with a bit more enthusiasm.

"Good. Here's what I want you to do. You know what room Matsuzaki-san is in, don't you?" When she nodded, he continued. "Go to Matsuzaki-san and tell her that Lin-san asked her to draw up a charm for Mai; she's been possessed. Make sure you tell her that exact phrase: Mai's been possessed. Go now," he told her.

Opening the door again, he stepped back inside and watched her for a second. _Hells bells,_ he thought. With a grim frown twisting his lips, he shut the door behind him.

**A/N:** _Mis hijos_ means "my children," in Spanish. Do I speak Spanish, you might ask? Personally, I do not. But I have several great friends that do. So, thanks to Honeysempai and Ki Desa—especially with the coming chapter/s.

'_On the doorposts of your house and on your gates_,' is a passage from Deuteronomy; chapter six verse nine.

A point of interest: Willows are actually listed as a fairy tree and there is a rhyme about them following their victims. _"Elm do grieve, Oak he do hate, Willow do walk if yew travels late."_ Course, that could be Yew tree, but the entry specifically states that the Willow Tree follows its victims and mutters. What's a fairy tree? Google it and you tell me. I'll see you all in chapter three!


	3. Musical Interlude

**Chapter three: Musical Interlude**

**A/N:** Welcome back to the third chapter of Dancing Queen! That wasn't a bad cliff-hanger I left you all with, was it? It was? Ah, well. Not much to really say here. Wish I owned Ghost Hunt, but I sadly don't. Read on then!

………

Ayako seriously wondered what heinous crime she'd committed in a past life to deserve this. _Maybe I was a cannibal; or I was like Elizabeth Bathory and bathed in blood,_ she thought, observing the pale, doll-like medium from the vanity mirror. Masako, it seemed, wasn't content unless she'd riled someone to the point of smacking her. She didn't quite know why the TV star did that, either. In all actuality, she was surprised that Mai hadn't yet done so with prior instances; Ayako was even more surprised to realize that Mai considered the girl a friend. Unfortunately, Mai rooming with Ofelia-chan meant that Chiaki and Ayako had to put up with the medium. Currently, Masako was targeting Chiaki. The problem with bothering Chiaki was the silver-haired girl had PK-energy to burn and unlike Naru who had restrictions with his PK, Chiaki had no such reservations. Sighing, Ayako grabbed the floating bottle of astringent and battled with it for a few seconds before it went slack as Chiaki got the hint and released it. Shaking the bottle again with a little more vigor, Ayako poured a bit onto a cotton puff and rubbed it onto her face, wincing a bit at the alcohol as it attacked her pores.

"You know what?" Ayako heard Chiaki ask. "Play your games. And if it makes you feel better to insult everyone else because you feel insecure, by all means, have at it. No wonder you don't have any friends!" That said, the silver-haired girl whirled angrily and strode out of the room.

Spreading moisturizer on her face, Ayako tried to remain nonchalant and aloof. Inwardly, however, she was preparing herself. Masako was sure to turn to her very soon.

"Matsuzaki-san."

Ayako sighed. It seemed like her turn for torment had arrived. She wondered why Masako had been so catty as of late. "What is it?" she asked, working the moisturizer into her skin.

"You should allow your face to breathe, Matsuzaki-san. It might thank you."

_It's breathing just fine, thanks for your concern._ "This coming from someone who barely knows how to take care of her skin."

Masako frowned. That hit a nerve, because in a way, the priestess was right. She had professionals who took care of these things and told her how to use the products that they gave her. "And why would I clog up my skin with all that makeup like you do?" Masako asked, covering her mouth with a sleeve of her sleeping kimono.

_The results? You mean you might have to look in the mirror and see the truth?_ "'All that makeup', eh?" the priestess repeated, examining her skin in the mirror. It was smooth and lovely, without blemish, just as it should be. "You don't wear any, off camera. So how would you know that it's bad for the skin? When you start wearing it or when you become a dermatologist, I'll allow you to lecture me. Until then, go sulk silently."

Masako fell silent for a bit. It seemed that she'd hit a massive nerve. "Matsuzaki-san."

"What?" she asked, searching around for her small pot of soothing eye cream.

"Why?"

"Why, what?" the priestess asked, having found what she was looking for and dabbing it gently underneath her eyes.

"Why do you wear all that makeup? Are you trying to get Bou-san's attention? Lin-san's? Naru's?"

_Well not Lin—that one wouldn't take notice if I hit him with a block of wood! And I'm not interested in that little brat that Mai and Masako once fought over, either! No comment on the monk._ "And were that my only reason, what's wrong with it?" she asked, using her ring finger to dab the cooling gel under her eyes and around the bone.

Masako crinkled her nose and covered it with her sleeping kimono sleeve. "It's shallow," she responded.

Ayako heaved another sigh. "I don't want to hear that from you. You lack the rights to lecture me on shallowness," she said, tackling her wet hair with a brush. _I really ought to buy some detangling solution. This stuff's a bear when it's wet!_

"You're evading my question," the medium pointed out.

"I'm not actively seeking attention," the shrine maiden said, giving up on her hair; it was simply too unmanageable wet. Frowning, Ayako picked up a tube of moisturizer that she used during the day and turned around on the vanity stool. "Here," she said, tossing it to the medium. Masako caught it deftly and looked at it curiously. "I wear that during the day. SPF twenty. That's not bad, but at the same time, it's not enough. Our skin needs more. That's where foundation comes in; it protects the skin from what the moisturizer can't—meaning the elements," Ayako said, holding up the tube. "And while I'm at it, since I've already put on foundation, what's wrong with blush, eye shadow, liner, and mascara? It doesn't hurt to look our best, you know. I know Lin probably wouldn't care either which way, but I know for a fact that Mai wears a touch of makeup when they go out on dates."

"She does?" Masako asked, surprised. Funny, she'd never thought that Mai would go to those lengths—it didn't seem like something she'd care about.

"Of course. And even if Lin doesn't care one way or the other, I'll bet it makes him appreciative. Does it still sound shallow?"

Masako was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Yes."

"There you go again, being difficult."

The medium's lips twitched. Before either could say anything else, a frantic pounding started on the door. Curious, Ayako stood up, went to the door, and pulled it open. Ofelia barged into the room, leaving the medium and the miko stunned.

"What's wrong?" Masako asked softly.

"Mitsuzuki-san?" she asked, ignoring Masako and looking up at Ayako.

"_Mat_su_zaki_," she corrected gently, kneeling down to the little girl's level. "What's wrong?"

"Lin-san told me to give a message to Mitsuzuki-san. He said, 'tell Mitsuzuki-san to draw up a charm for Mai-oneesan because she's been possessed."

Masako gasped, her gray eyes going wide.

"What?" Ayako asked, her blue eyes wide and disbelieving. She grabbed Ofelia's shoulders. "Possessed? What do you mean 'she's possessed?' What did he tell you?"

Frightened, Ofelia backed away from the priestess. Tears started to gather at the corners of her eyes and she shook her head fearfully. "That's it! That's all he said!"

Ayako reached for the little girl again but was stopped by Masako's voice. "That's enough, Matsuzaki-san," she said, her voice dripping icicles. "It's not Ofelia-chan's fault. Lin-san asked you to make a charm for him. If you're curious for more information, you can ask tomorrow."

Setting her lips into a grim line, Ayako mentally admitted that Masako was right. "I'm sorry," she said, smiling at the little girl gently. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Mai's very precious to us and we tend to worry about her a lot." Standing, Ayako went over to her bags, taking out a piece of rice paper and a black marker. "And it's Matsuzaki-san," she said, drawing up a charm. "I'm going to quiz you on it tomorrow. Now," she said, going back to the little girl. She blew on the wet ink before kneeling down again. "Lin's probably with Mai right now and the door is likely locked, so you'll have to give this to him when he comes out, okay?"

Ofelia nodded and took the charm.

"Good girl," Ayako said, smiling at her and closing the door behind her.

"Should I go to Lin-san and Mai?" Masako queried.

"And do what? What can you do that Lin-san himself can't?"

"Lin-san is not a medium."

"That's true. But if he needs your help, I'm sure he'll ask. Until then, stay put."

Ofelia hurried back to her room, wondering if it was all right to use marker for charms. You couldn't do that for the Torah, she told herself. She'd ask Lin-san and see what he said. Upon reaching her door a few seconds later, she wondered if the priestess wasn't right about the door being locked. Reaching out, she tested the knob. When it didn't turn, she slid down the wall and waited.

………

This was going to take some time, Lin thought. As it was, the ghost possessing Mai had yet to notice him. He watched Mai contemplatively for a few moments. He might as well try to get what information he could before expelling the ghost from Mai's body. He cast a look at the furniture—hospital trouble, that was. Moving away from the door, he planted himself right in her path. She circled around him, still taking no notice. The sorcerer got the impression of freshwater and lavender. That definitely wasn't Mai; she preferred the scent of cherry blossoms. Reaching out suddenly, Lin snagged Mai's wrist and spun her back to him, wrapping his other arm around her waist and taking control of the erratic dance. The ghost possessing her began to struggle to get away.

"It's useless," he said, leading her through the steps of the waltz. When the ghost began to fight back in earnest, Lin backed Mai's body to a wall. Thankfully her own strength was meager compared to his, but possessed people, he knew, didn't have boundaries when they really fought. "Didn't I tell you that it was useless? I wouldn't advise making me take a more drastic course," he said, leaning closer and applying just a little more strength.

"Let go," a drawling voice commanded, in English. "You're ruinin' the dance!"

Lin's eyes narrowed at the Southern drawl. "Get out," he responded in kind, hating the clipped British accent that came out when he spoke English. "You don't belong in that body."

"Brute! Let me go this instance. I do not wish to dance with you!"

"That's a true pity. I'm actually a very good dancer," he responded, pulling her back into the waltz; it was harder for the ghost to get away if they were moving than if they stayed still. The struggling resumed, but was soon abandoned. The nameless ghost allowed herself to be swept away in a dance. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Will you help me?" came the question instead.

"I'm the one asking and you're the one answering. What's your name?"

"Promise me you'll help me and I'll tell you everything."

"Promise a nameless ghost help? For all I know, you're a demon possessing that body and masquerading as a ghost. So no, I won't promise you anything. Tell me who you are and what you want. If not, I'll have to get rid of you."

Mai's face turned up to meet his eyes. There was a strange light in those brown orbs and an even odder smile. "Do you think you can get rid of me, boy?"

Lin tightened his grip. "It's not a matter of _think_. I _can_. And it won't be a gentle process, either."

"Would you really?" she asked shrewdly. "That will hurt this girl. And a true gentleman would never, ever bring a lady harm."

Lin backed Mai's body back to the wall and leaned in close. His visible eye glinted dangerously. "Try me," he suggested.

Mai's mouth turned down in a frown. It opened to retort, but before the ghost could reply, she seemed to gaze beyond him. The look in her eyes was fascinating—Lin wished a camera had been set up to record this. Finally, the ghost spoke again. "Something comes. Another time, Mr. Brute."

Mai went slack in his arms as the ghost vacated her body. Frowning, Lin lifted her and carried her to the door. Reaching out, he unlocked it and stepped out to an expectant Ofelia.

"Here," she said, handing him the charm. "I don't know if it's right, though," the little girl commented, following him as he made his way back to his room.

"Why do you say that?" Lin asked. Glancing at the rice paper, he couldn't find anything amiss. He put it on Mai's stomach and draped her arm over it, securing its place.

"I've watched the priests at the shrine make charms; I've also watched the Torah being repaired when the letters faded. Both use ink and it comes from little pots. Mitsuzuki-san used a marker."

_Mitsuzuki-san_, Lin thought, vaguely amused. "The Torah has specific guidelines, however," he told her opening the door. "Her charms don't. She could have used a pencil and I doubt it would have made much of a difference. All that matters is the power that's put into the sigil as it's written down onto the charm paper."

Ofelia seemed to take that in. "Is Mai-oneesan coming back to my room tonight?" she asked following him inside.

"No. Go sleep. You'll see her tomorrow."

"But… Mai-oneesan and I were supposed to smuggle Chiaki-oneesan and Mako-nii and Yasuhara-nii into my room and play ghost stories. I wanted to tell them the one that Daddy told Mako and me all the time. I was going to use that as Spanish practice and if it worked out, tell all of you."

"Tomorrow," Lin said decisively, pointing to the door. "No more arguing. Take a good look, Ofelia-chan. Mai is in no condition to hear ghost stories right now. She just lived one. Back to bed with you."

Ofelia's eyes fell; tears shone on her lashes and Lin felt like kicking himself. "Listen," he said, sweetening the pot, "you can tell us all tomorrow. We'll listen."

The light returned to the girl's eyes. "Really? Even the Spanish version?"

The Chinese man kicked himself mentally, again. "Yes," he said. "Now good night."

Happy, the little girl skipped out of his room, shutting the door behind her. Lin looked over at the clock on the wall. It was a little after nine p.m. He wondered if the crying was due to start soon. The ghost that had been possessing Mai had hinted that something was coming. A line from Shakespeare floated through his head and he grimaced, turning his thoughts back to the ghost that had left unexpectedly. Mai stirred in his arms and he sat down on the bed, cradling her against him. Her eyes opened slowly—clear, beautiful, and most of all, aware. The sight warmed his heart and he smiled softly.

She looked up at him, squinting just a bit. "Koujo?" she asked.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Mai took a moment to take stock before saying, "Drained."

He smiled faintly. "I'll bet. She was a piece of work. Who was she?" he asked.

Mai fingered his shirt, frowning. "Annabelle. That was Annabelle."

"What's the connection between her and the shoes from the museum?"

Mai made to answer, but before she could get a word in edge-wise, heart-wrenching sobs filled the air. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped in his arms. "Mai!"

Faintly, Lin thought he heard Matsuzaki-san cry out, too. _Hara-san must have just fainted as well,_ he thought, checking Mai's pulse. It was steady and strong. _If Hara-san also collapsed, they're probably sharing a vision._ He frowned when Takigawa-san threw the door open and barged in.

"I see I don't have to say anything," he said without preamble.

"Correct."

The monk shut the door. "Did she just collapse, too?"

"Yes."

"So I guess they're sharing a vision."

Lin didn't reply; he simply continued to peer at Mai's unconscious face. Just as he'd gotten the ghost out of her, this had to happen. This was going to be a doozy—these two cases. Sighing, the bassist sat down to wait with him. Turning his head to the window, the sandy-haired man said, "How eerie. It sounds so close, like it could be inside, doesn't it? But we know it's outside, whatever 'it' is."

"I'm sure we'll have an answer to that soon."

"No kidding. I couldn't see anything, you know," Takigawa said, turning back to Lin. "I looked and nothing."

"Not surprising, actually. No one's actually _seen_ anything. I doubt even the night cameras are picking up any sort of visual. I'm sure the microphones and thermographs are picking up data, but that's about it." Lin fell silent and looked down at Mai, trying to figure out what was puzzling him. It came to him suddenly. "You know what I _don't_ hear that strikes me as odd?" he asked, looking at the bassist.

"What?" the monk asked, checking the charm.

"The dog."

Houshou's head snapped up, meeting the Chinese man's gaze. "You're right," he said slowly. "I hear the crying loud and clear. And if I'm hearing it, then so is the dog. But Ginger's not growling _or_ barking. Is it possible we're dealing with a spirit that's not necessarily malevolent?"

"It may not be a threat because it's outside and simply crying—so long as it's doing that and staying out there, Ginger may have no cause for concern. If whatever it is came inside… who knows?" Lin hazard.

Takigawa frowned and leaned forward, his light brown eyes serious and concerned. "But for how long?" he asked, jabbing his thumb towards the window. "Whatever is doing this isn't random. It wants something—it's just biding its time. So how long until that time runs out?"

_That,_ Lin thought, unconsciously holding Mai closer, _is the sixty-four million dollar question._

………

Mai was hovering in a blank area. There was no way to describe the void, because there was just _nothing_. She generally called this the calm before the storm when people asked. The brunette got the sudden feeling that this would be an unpleasant drama. She looked around for the other presence that she felt. It wasn't Gene, but it had a feeling similar to the other medium. "Masako?" she called tentatively, hoping she was right.

"Mai? Mai, are you here?"

Upon hearing her name, the brunette turned and turned, until she found the medium's presence. Reaching out, she clasped the doll-like girl's hand and pulled her over, letting go when the other reached her side. Reaching out, Masako grasped Mai's arm as they watched their fateful vision play out its grisly tale.

Lightning struck, blinding both girls momentarily. When their vision cleared, the flash had brought an eerie illuminating light to the setting. Thunder followed, shaking the scene into place with one deafening clap. A kitchen, they were in a kitchen. They could hear raindrops tip-tap-tapping steadily on the roof. Mai frowned as she surveyed the kitchen; it was empty and lifeless, devoid of cooking or any type of presence. And it shouldn't be like that. A table appeared—old and round. Likely it was an antique; it had probably seen many, many meals and messes, but like the kitchen it seemed devoid of something and she wasn't sure what, just yet.

A couple appeared suddenly. Mai's free hand swiftly went to her throat to try and rid herself of the thick, cloying feeling of disgust, hatred, and anger. Gasping, Masako clutched at her kimono. She felt it, too. The two started to speak. Removing her hand from her throat, Mai cupped her ear, trying to hear what was being said. Between one heart beat and the next, it came through loud and clear.

"You bastard! How could you? I'll have it annulled, wait and see. You've gone against our entire Ketubah. Bigamy is against the law, no matter how you look at it."

_What language are they speaking,_ she wondered. Mai had no trouble _understanding_ what they were saying, but whichever language they were speaking didn't sound like Japanese—nor did it sound like English.

"Or, I could divorce you."

The woman's face contorted as various emotions flew across her face in response to his comment. Flying out of her chair, she reached out and slapped him, hard. Mai winced. "You damnable bastard! After everything I've done for you—this is the thanks that I get?"

"Carmen—"

She slapped him again, drawing blood this time. "Don't you dare," she said, enunciating each word. "What about the children? How will I explain this to them?"

"You won't."

"Oh, and I suppose a useless bum like you is prepared to explain his sins to his children? Please, don't make me laugh."

"I really hadn't intended to tell them. They'll just come with me," he said, as if it made perfect sense.

Carmen's face went pale.

"Of course, you may visit them. As often as you like," he continued. He stopped when she began to laugh, a chilling cackle that sent shivers up both observers' spines. From the look on the man's face, it unsettled him, too.

"Let me get this straight. While visiting your cousin in Maryland for your _beloved uncle's funeral_—who probably didn't leave you a dime—you met a beautiful woman and decided to marry her, making _you_ a bigamist. Now you're back here in Arizona and informing me of your intent to discard _me_, the one who's made everything you have thus far possible, and as if to add injury to insult, you're going to take my children as well? Over my dead body you will."

"Carmen, be reasonable. The children need their father. I'm sorry; I really am. I know it's wrong, but God forgive me, I love her. Madly. And she loves me."

"So _what_ does that make me in your eyes, Hernando?" she asked gravely, watching him with eyes red from crying. "I loved you. That's why I went against my family's wishes and married you."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two. It was broken when Hernando shook his head. "But you don't love me any longer, Carmen."

"And I wonder if you ever loved me," she said musingly.

"Mercedes loves kids," he told her, not answering her question. "She'll make a wonderful step-mother."

Carmen frowned at him. Two could play the skipping game. "God forgive you?" she asked, backtracking to his prior comment. "You're beyond redemption. And you're not taking the children with you. If your Mercedes loves children so much, she can damn well have her own, because she's not getting mine. Maybe you didn't _hear_ me, Hernando. 'Over my dead body.' Take her. She can have you, this _gorgeous_ Mercedes. You're a worthless, lazy bum who took me for a ride. My family told me I shouldn't have married you. You had no money, no station, nothing. I could have done much, much better; I should have listened to them. But no, instead, I married you; I supported you; I gave you children. Go back to Mercedes, Hernando. But understand this: she will _never, ever_ take my place with my children. She will never be their mother or go anywhere _near_ them. I don't give a rat's ass what a worthless piece of shit like you does with yourself when you leave, but the children are not going with you. Do you hear and understand me?"

"Carmen—you're being difficult," he said, sighing. "You can't expect me to leave my children behind without a father."

She didn't slap him this time. Leaning over, she laid her hands on his cheeks and smiled at his flinch. "They don't need their father. They don't need you, period. They're my children. I carried them and birthed them. And I will keep them from you by any means necessary. May what you've done haunt the rest of your days and you be miserable for all the years you have with her. And Hernando, if there is such a thing as hell, then I hope you rot there."

From the look on his face, the two psychics gathered that she'd never wished such ill will towards anyone before. Pulling away from her, he stood and turned to leave the kitchen. "Say your goodbyes, Maria Carmen. The children leave with me tomorrow."

"Hernando, you're just not getting it. I can't seem to make you understand."

He shook his head, leaving her.

"I was being quite literal," she said with a terrifying smile on her face. "Over my dead body." Looking at the ceiling she frowned. "Better get a move on before it completely fills up."

The scene segued outside. The storm had gotten much worse, Mai noted with an inexplicable feeling of dread. She looked over at Masako and found that the medium agreed with her. The look on her face was sad, as if she knew what was coming. Perhaps she did. Then they were inside a truck with two children.

"But Mommy, why?" came the plaintive question. "'m _tired_!"

"I know, Rosalina, but just until we get to the hotel, okay?"

The little girl made a face.

She turned to her son. "¡Alejo, consola a tu hermana!" she snapped.

_Eh? _Mai wondered. _What's she saying? Why can't I understand her anymore?_

"Mama— regresamos a nuestra casa," the little boy said, reaching out and putting an arm around his sister.

"No podemos. Ya no es tiempo sera pronto, sera pronto, pronto, pronto. Te Io prometo."

"Mama!" The boy's voice sounded urgent. "Los arroyos!"

She didn't answer; she merely punched the gas. The truck lurched forward. Dread pooled into Mai's gut. The arroyo (if that's what it was) was rapidly filling with water that flowed from the mountains and into the valley. It didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen if they didn't make it through. "No, wait!" Mai wanted to call.

Too late, the truck went into the wash until it came to a sudden halt as it crashed into a warning sign. Masako looked away. The woman was dead and the children… the dream faded and Mai woke up with a pounding headache in Ayako's room and everyone worriedly milling about. Gently, she extracted her hand from Masako's and sat up gingerly. Her actions caused Masako to wake up. Bou-san knelt down in front of them.

"You two okay?" he asked gently.

Mai nodded, sniffling. "It was horrible!" she said, looking at Masako, who pulled herself into a sitting position. The wailing reached a new, deafening decibel and in that second, Mai understood that the vision she'd just shared with Masako was pertinent to their investigation. She looked over at her friend, wondering if she'd caught on as well. Masako nodded back, showing that she had.

"He almost got away with it," she said, softly. "I guess the joke was on her."

"Is it too much trouble to ask for an explanation?"

Mai and Masako looked up to see Alejandro and his wife frowning down at them. After sharing another look, Mai said, "He cheated on her and wanted to take her children."

Alejandro looked at them strangely—as if he knew what they were talking about on an intimate scale.

"That's _it_?" Chisato asked. "You two fainted for _that_? You had us scared to death! Is that even worth anything?"

"Takamoto-san, don't let Hollywood deceive you. Visions aren't always spot-on. Most often, they're bits and pieces of a whole," Naru said, frowning at her.

"Well excuse me for not knowing! Not all of us have the time for this…this stuff! Some of us live in the real world—" She stopped talking when her husband grasped her hand and aimed a look at the assembled group.

"Dear-heart, we called them precisely because we believe the opposite. You're tired; it's been a long night," he said gently.

She blinked. What she said sank in; her eyes widened and a shamed look graced her pretty face. "You're right. I'm so sorry," she said, turning back to them and bowing. "That was way out of line. My sincerest apologies."

"Takamoto-san, the spirit world is as real as this one," Naru said, closing his eyes and leaning against the couch. He tried as best as he could to ignore the weeping that permeated the room. "Just because it's not tangible to everyone or available for science to quantify doesn't make it a ruse for charlatans."

"Yes, you're right. It's like my husband says: I'm very tired. Once again, I offer you my deepest and sincerest apologies."

"No need," Naru said.

Alejandro looked down at Mai and Masako. "Are you two all right?" he asked.

"We're fine," Mai said. "Right, Masako?"

"Yes," the medium replied.

"Then… if none of you mind, my wife and I will retire for the evening." The crying escalated and the couple shared a grimace. "Or try to. Man, I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow," he said, leading his wife out of the base room.

"Oh, you," Chisato said, slipping an arm around his waist. "You love your job and you know it. Can you get up a little bit early and maybe come home early?"

"Might be do-able. Actually, I'll work a half-day tomorrow and then try to use some vacation time. God knows that they want me to use vacation time that I racked up before the move."

"That would be good." Their voices trailed down the hallway, growing fainter with each step that they took.

Yasuhara shut the door behind them. The group turned their undivided attention to the two young women who sat on the floor. "Well?" Bou-san asked. "What didn't you want to say while those two were in the room?"

"He didn't just cheat," Mai said. "He remarried while he was still married."

"Do you mean to say that he was a bigamist?" John asked. "That's against the Church!" he said, when the two nodded.

"Funny you should say that," Mai said, with a peculiar smile. "Because she said that he was going against their Ketubah. What's that?" she asked.

"Ketubah?" the priest repeated.

"Ah… I've heard of that actually. It's a marriage contract, right?" Yasuhara asked. "One of the kids in my class at Ryokuryo High School said that his parents tore their house up looking for it."

"Contract?" Mai asked. "Like what?"

"Yes," John said, going over to the door and opening it. There on the doorpost sat a simple, silver mezuzah with writing engraved into it. To Mai, they looked like characters, but they were strange characters. She was used to the lines that made up the Kanji characters—these resembled… letters of sorts. Closing the door again, he turned back to the group. "It's a marriage contract used by Jewish people, before they get married. Basically, it signifies the groom's responsibilities towards his wife during their matrimony; it also ensures that she's provided for, should they be divorced or should he die. The groom signs it, two totally unrelated witnesses sign it, and then it's given to the bride."

"So it's likely that Alejandro-san and Chisato-san also have a Ketubah," Naru said. "And going against the Ketubah?" he asked.

"Grounds for a Jewish divorce."

"He'd decided to divorce her and take the children with him. 'Over my dead body,'" Mai quoted. "That's what she said in response to him taking the kids."

"As far as she was concerned, his 'new wife' Mercedes could have him. Her family had warned her against marrying him in the first place. He had no money, no station—nothing, which tells me at least that her family was probably wealthy. She supported him. Apparently, he was a bum," Masako said, picking up the tale.

"What was the first wife's name?"

Mai shared a look with Masako.

"Well?" Naru asked, looking between the two of them.

"Maria Carmen," she said reluctantly.

Something clicked in Naru's mind. "Mai, do you recall the names you mentioned when you told us about your trance yesterday?" he asked.

"Those two were there," she told him grudgingly. "He called her Carmen, though."

"From what I've heard," John said, "Maria is an extremely common first name and many go by their middle name in Mexico."

"So we're likely dealing with a spirit from the Americas," Lin said.

"Go on, you two," Naru said, not denying or confirming the sorcerer's statement.

"For the record," Mai stated, "I don't think she meant to actually kill her children. I didn't get the impression that she did. Did you?" she asked, looking at Masako. The medium shook her head negatively. "I think she wanted to get them somewhere where her husband couldn't get them, if you understand my meaning. She actively thought about leaving as soon as possible because the storm was getting worse. It was storming when they had the argument," she said, backtracking a bit. "I don't have a clear picture of where they were headed, but… I get the feeling the little boy didn't want to be out in the storm. He tried to warn his mother about the arroyos –whatever those are—but she didn't listen. She simply punched the gas. I don't think she meant to crash into the sign, but she did."

Naru looked over at her, his stormy blue eyes wide. "Did you say 'arroyos,'" he asked.

"That's right," she said, looking at him puzzled. She looked around wide-eyed when the crying stopped abruptly.

"Washes," he muttered, frowning. Naru's eyes narrowed. "Get some sleep," he ordered abruptly, casting a look at his crew. "We'll finish this discussion in the morning." Turning away from the group, he walked back to the monitors. It was a clear dismissal. Righting herself from where she'd been leaning, Ayako went over to Masako and helped the younger girl to her feet. Bou-san approached Mai and assisted her to her feet; when she was standing, he peered into her eyes anxiously and then shared a worried look with Lin and John. Lin's return look was grim and even John's look became somber. None of this went unnoticed by Chiaki, who, instead of leaving the base room with Masako and Ayako, opted to stay behind.

Ayako noticed this. "Chiaki-chan?" she asked, turning back to the silvery-haired girl.

"I'll be along soon," she replied.

Mai tilted her head to the side and watched Chiaki for a moment, before giving the older girl a good-luck smile. "Good night, all," she said, looking around and receiving the same. Her gaze landed on Naru, who was looking over earlier data that Yasuhara had collected, and frowned. He really hadn't changed, the idiotic workaholic. Looking at Chiaki, she gave her a long-suffering smile and received a knowing one tinged with amusement in return. "I'll see everyone in the morning."

"Sure," Chiaki replied, nodding. "Good night, Mai-chan."

Mai turned and left the base room, knowing that Naru wasn't going to respond at all. Lin was hot on her heels and escorted her into his room before she could go to Ofelia's. He caged her against the door the second it closed and simply stood there with his head bowed towards hers and his eyes closed. He would never tell her how terrified he'd been when he opened the door to Ofelia's room and glimpsed her empty eyes and aimless twirls.

"Koujo?" she asked quietly.

Braced by his hands, the sorcerer leaned forward and buried his face where her shoulder and neck met. She wrapped her arm around him and combed her fingers through his hair.

"What did she want?" he asked.

Mai shivered and then got cold when her mind registered his question. Releasing him, she tried to ease away. He noticed the change immediately. When he lowered his arms, she moved away and presented her back. Lin stepped over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. She stiffened in his embrace and he pulled her closer in response. He leaned down putting his lips right by her ear.

"I lied," he said.

Mai felt her eyes widen. "Eh?" she asked.

"I told myself just a few moments ago that I would never tell you how frightened I was when I saw you in Ofelia's room, possessed. I was worried—what would I do if Annabelle wouldn't leave you and you ended up dancing to death? Which victim would you have been? And…I couldn't allow that to happen."

A small, relieved smile blossomed on Mai's face; she loved when he was open with things, instead of hiding his thoughts or feelings. Reaching up, she put one hand on his crossed arms and managed to maneuver herself in his embrace to face him. His hold tightened just a little bit, crushing her against him.

"She's not sure," she said, looking up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"She knows _who_ she wants and _what_ she wants with that person, but she's forgotten his name and nearly his face. And she's tired, Koujo, so tired. She wants all of this to end; she wants her suffering to stop, and… she really doesn't like you very much. She called you 'Sir Brute.'"

"Funny. She called me 'Mr. Brute' to my face."

Mai chuckled. "I'll see if Gene can tell me anything more," she said, trying to wriggle out of his hold. Instead, she found herself on the bed, still cradled in his arms. Closing the distance between them, he kissed her once, twice, and a third time before kissing her fiercely and making her gasp. Taking the opportunity, his tongue found hers and engaged it in a fast, furious dance. Mai's fingers tangled in his hair for support and she pressed herself closer. She was deeply sorry when he broke the kiss.

"Sorry," he said. "But you're staying here for tonight, just. In. Case," he told her, punctuating each word by undoing a button on her pajama top. "After all," he commented, trailing his lips down her neck and to the hollow of her throat. Mai shivered, feeling the familiar, delicious sensations shoot through her body.

_What would it be like,_ she wondered wistfully. Her thought was cut off suddenly when he reached her throat.

"What will I do if you're possessed again and I'm not there?"

Mai spied the charm on the floor from the corner of her eye and smiled. Between Lin himself and his five Shikigami, she was sure the charm wouldn't have lasted long, anyhow. "That would certainly be a problem," she whispered huskily, tipping her head back. Maybe he'd go further. It was wishful thinking, actually, and she knew it. _But I can hope._

Mai fell asleep ensconced in Lin's embrace. The sorcerer watched her eyelids grow heavy and close. As her breathing evened out, she snuggled more firmly into his arms. Watching for a bit longer, Lin felt his own eyes grow heavy. Laying his head beside hers, he planted a kiss on her cheek and drifted off.

When Mai opened her eyes, she was at the lake where her first major dream had left off. Mist rose from the water and wafted up to the shore, shrouding the entire body of water. Cautious, Mai moved away from the fog that seemed to be searching for something. She didn't know why just yet but she felt ill at ease so near the water. Biting her lip, she turned away from the lake and was taken to an inverted world. It took her a few moments to recognize the houses that surrounded the creek. Eugene was suddenly by her side.

"They all have something in common, you know," he said, looking at her.

She turned her head and looked at him questioningly. The world pulled inward, rushing by her. Details filled themselves in, walls, colors, windows, lovely planters and gardens, and tall fences to insure privacy. Mai drifted closer and through fences. By the third house, it became apparent.

"They all have young children," she said, turning back to him.

He nodded. He pointed to the house whose backyard they were standing in as if he was trying to tell her something. Mai looked at him, puzzled. "The children don't always die," he said. "Remember that."

Mai nodded and made a sound of agreement; she had a feeling that there was more to his message than he was saying. She would figure it out soon, anyhow. "What about Annabelle?" she asked, changing the subject. "Can you give me anything?"

Eugene looked at her and frowned. Mai felt her breath stop at the unusually grave look on his face. "You're right—everything you've told Lin is correct. She would know him if she saw him. But his name, she can't quite remember."

"So first I need his name?"

Eugene nodded. "But remember this, too: don't promise her anything—nothing at all, ever. That's how she snares other women who have potential. Ladies like you, Mai."

"What happens?"

"Those that fail to help her—dance to death."

Mai gasped. "No way."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Besides," she said, her eyes taking on a hard, determined glint, "I'm not going to let that happen. McLaughlin-san and Annabelle picked the wrong victim this time. They have no _idea_ who they're dealing with. I guess I need some information from McLaughlin-san, right?" she asked, looking at him. He was fading away—the dream was fading; she was waking up. He mouthed something else that was a bare whisper. "What? Gene—don't let me wake up just yet! What did you say?"

"Gene!" It was no use after all, she knew, waking up to darkness and the warmth of another's arms. She shivered, literally seeing her breath on the air and snuggled more firmly into the embrace. The two words he'd said echoed in her ears: Baker's Field. _What's that,_ she wondered, looking down to see Lin's head cradled against her chest. A small, intimate smile tugged at her lips and she began to toy with his hair. _So I'm a pillow now, am I,_ she thought. _Could be worse._

She returned to her present train of thought. _Not all of the children die—that's what Eugene told me,_ she reiterated, laying her head back on the pillow. _And all the houses, including this one, have young children. Makoto himself isn't very old. So a spirit that goes after children? There was something in the late '70's about the Kuchisake Onna kidnapping children, right?_ She recalled the question that Lin asked Naru after she and Masako had woken up from their trance. _But we're not dealing with a Japanese spirit. We're dealing with something different, aren't we? Koujo thinks it's a spirit from somewhere in the Americas, right? In my dream, they were speaking Spanish. John said that Maria was a common name in Mexico-- is that where the spirit is from? If it is, it might explain a lot. And what about Annabelle, _she wondered, combing her fingers through Lin's hair idly. _Gene told me not to promise her anything. And what is Baker's Field?_ _It's probably something important…_

Her thoughts were cut off when Lin's leg shifted. The breath in her throat caught as a wave of pleasure bolted through her; her fingers tightened in his hair. "You did that purposely," she accused.

"You called another man's name," he responded.

"That other man is dead. I don't think you have any need to worry."

"And what about you?"

"Umm…I don't recall hearing you call another woman's name, so I'm not particularly worried."

Lin smirked, but sobered almost immediately. "So?"

"Did the group from yesterday get anything interesting when they interviewed the families?"

"Not especially. They didn't really shed any new lights."

"Hmm… we should ask again."

"Why?"

"All these houses in the neighborhood have kids. I wonder if they talked to the kids at all."

"Yasuhara-san and Brown-san said they did."

"But did they say anything with the parents around?"

"What's this about?" he asked.

"Do you think it's a Hispanic spirit, Koujo?"

He frowned—an action she felt rather than saw. He'd been wondering the same thing. "I think the idea bears merit and investigation. Why?"

Mai combed her fingers through his hair contemplatively. "Earlier, when I went outside to talk to Ofelia-chan and Makoto-kun, I heard something when I was looking out at the lake," she said.

He raised a brow at her seemingly random comment. Nothing that happened on a case with her was ever random. SPR had learned that lesson the hard way. "What did you hear?" he asked her.

"Mis hijos."

Again, Lin frowned.

"That's why I asked if you thought it was a Hispanic specter."

"Anything else?"

"Ah… Gene also told me that sometimes, the kids don't always die and that I should remember that. He pointed to a specific house as he said that. I think there's a reason for it—like maybe we should go back and talk to them."

"We can do that."

"No," Mai said suddenly.

"No?" Lin echoed, plainly confused.

"Not the parents. The kids. We need to talk to the kids. The kids don't always die. I think he was trying to tell me that the kids in that house might have been victims."

"Or nearly victims," Lin replied musingly.

"Or they know someone who was."

"Could be both," the sorcerer surmised, liking the angle that she'd brought up; it worked with his original thought of kids talking to each other. "Did Gene tell you anything about Annabelle?"

"Not really. He told me that everything I've already told you is correct. He did say one thing, though. He told me not to promise her anything. And he looked so grave about it that it scared me."

………

Chiaki watched everyone leave. Once the door to the base room shut behind Bou-san, who'd been the last out, the silver haired girl turned back to the monitors and found Naru sitting there staring at the screens intently. Sighing, she walked over to a chair and lowered herself into it. She was only going to try and get him talking—he didn't need anything more just yet. Before she could think of anything to say, he spoke.

"You should get some sleep, Kasai-san."

"I'm not tired," she responded. Which was true—she wasn't. After what had just happened, she was wide awake. "I won't sleep if I try now and it's no good trying to force myself."

He frowned at her reply.

She shrugged in response. "That's just how I am. I've been that way since I was a kid. My dad's the same way." She rested her chin in her hands and smiled slightly. She pointed idly to a lone pencil, making it levitate. _Look mom, no hands!_ she thought. _Actually, mom would probably freak out if she saw this._ She guided the pencil in a series of staged dips and twirls before speaking up. "You know, it was a night kind of like this. Summer break and I just couldn't sleep. So I decided to watch TV."

Naru had intended for solitude to reflect on what Mai and Hara-san had told the group, but it seemed as if he wasn't going to get that. Putting a cap on his annoyance, he glanced over at his employee who was focused solely on the tricks she was making the pencil perform. She had become very adept at controlling her powers, he realized with a surge of pride. Lin had undoubtedly worked his magic (pun not intended) despite his concerns. Naru was pleased to see that Chiaki had responded well.

"Apparently my dad couldn't sleep, either. He was already channel surfing when I got to the den. We watched Uri Geller together. I guess that's when my latent abilities decided to manifest. Now my dad—he thought the show was poppycock. Didn't believe it one bit." She shot Naru a grin and didn't seem upset when he didn't reciprocate. "On top of not believing, he managed to fall asleep! I, on the other hand, was tossing and turning, thinking to myself over and over again, 'what if I could do that? Bend a spoon with my mind?'" She paused to make the pencil twirl around and around.

Naru found himself wondering why she didn't have a boyfriend. From what he knew and saw, she was quite popular with the other students in her classes. He understood that high school had been rough, even after SPR had proven her innocence, but she was hardly being ostracized in college—why didn't she have a boyfriend, then?

"Couple of days later, I found that I could. You know the rest of this story, already." She cocked her head and looked at him curiously. "It wasn't the same for you, was it?"

"No," he answered.

"Maybe you're better off. You had time to get used to your abilities and understand them. I feel like I'm just floundering. Not that I'm ungrateful to Lin-san, but there are things I just _don't_ understand."

"You can ask me, you know," Naru said. "I can't teach you, but I can give you pointers and advice, Kasai-san." He shuffled the paper he'd been reading to the bottom of the pile and started the next page.

"Chiaki," she said, suddenly.

"Eh?" he asked, looking over at her.

"My name is Chiaki. Use it."

Naru watched her contemplatively for a moment. She was focused on making the pencil do some sort of complicated twist. He sighed. "You have something more to say," he stated.

The pencil clattered to the tabletop. "Will you listen?" she asked.

"I already am," he told her.

The sad thing was, she couldn't refute that logic. She scowled at him. "You know, you don't always have to state the obvious, right?"

Naru sighed. "I'll listen, Kasai-sa… Chiaki."

The silver-haired girl gave him a fleeting smile. "I'm in love with you," she blurted out.

Naru's eyes widened. He was used to hearing how handsome he was from other people, but that was all it was—just whispers or statements that girls didn't dare to make to his face—even Mai hadn't said it to his face. Not that he'd really been paying attention. He'd snapped to when she'd mentioned that she thought he was good looking.

"I could list all the things about you that I particularly like—your looks included, but that's going to take a long time," she continued. "I'm certain that what first drew me to you was the fact that you were the first person to believe in my PK ability—you had no preconceptions and you believed even when I didn't have any faith in my abilities."

"Ubusuna-sensei also believed in your abilities," he reminded her.

"Not until I proved it, she didn't. After that… well, I'm sure I don't need to reiterate the rest. My feelings were furthered by the fact that you took Mai seriously when she proclaimed my innocence over and over again. That takes a lot—most people were content to blame me simply because of what I said to professors who mocked me." She fell silent and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Well, there you have it. Do what you will with it."

Naru sat there watching her; he had the unpleasant experience of feeling like a fish out of water. Ever since Eugene had told him to figure out what was wrong with Chiaki, Naru had wondered if she didn't have feelings for him. And what to do, what to do? He was _supposed_ to be in a competition with Lin for Mai's heart… but that wasn't exactly going anywhere fast. Thinking about that stupid contest and failing at it brought a bitter, hollow ache to his heart. Maybe it was time for him to let go and move on. It had been a year and Mai didn't show any signs of breaking up with Lin or growing tired of being with the Chinese man. "I really did lose, didn't I?" he asked.

Chiaki smiled faintly. Mai had told her about the infamous competition between the two. She had also confided that she thought it was stupid. "I think that once Lin-san decided to get serious, there was no such thing as a competition. He strikes me as someone who doesn't lose to anyone or anything. Much like you."

"You might be right," Naru said musingly. "I've known Lin for nearly nine years and he's very rarely shown that side of himself."

Chiaki smiled. "Well," she said, faking a yawn, "I guess I'll go off to bed now. Good night, Naru."

The young ghost hunter looked at her shrewdly. "But you can't be tired just yet. You didn't use enough energy to actually tire yourself _out_."

She opened her mouth to state that she was indeed tired, but closed her mouth and grinned. "You're right. I just want to give you the time to think about what I've said."

"Do you know how long it's been since Mai and Lin started seeing each other?" Naru asked suddenly.

"No. Why?"

"It's been a little more than a year. I don't see any intent of her and Lin breaking up any time soon."

Chiaki smiled sympathetically. "I can tell you that he makes her happy."

"I know. I wonder if I just didn't abandon the so-called competition when I realized that."

"You might have."

"Then maybe it's time I move on," he said, holding her eyes.

Chiaki could hardly believe her ears; she felt her heart nearly stop before it resumed with a painful beat before settling back into its normal cycle. His beautiful eyes continued to hold hers and they were absolutely serious. Not one hint that he might be joking. She felt her breath catch in her throat. It wasn't a confession of love, but she hadn't been rejected, either. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and she sniffled, wiping them away before they could fall.

"I hope you have the patience of a saint, as John would say. It's definitely not going to be easy, Chiaki. But I'm willing to give it a try."

A radiant smile blossomed on the silver-haired girl's face. "Then, I'm willing to try, too." Tentatively she reached for his hand and took it. He stiffened as she expected, but he didn't let go and continued to hold her eyes. Taking that as encouragement, she linked their fingers together and settled their joined hands in her lap. A lone tear finally dropped from her eyes, followed by another and then another. With another sniffle, she wiped them off her face. More seemed to come after that. Funny, she never really thought of herself as overly emotional like Mai and here she was almost bawling. She looked down at their joined hands and smiled softly. "I'm really happy," she told him, squeezing his fingers gently.

Naru didn't say anything. But when she looked up, he was smiling at her. It was a small smile that barely curved his bottom lip, but it softened his eyes, removing the bored, harsh glint they always seemed to hold whenever she saw him. Mai was right, she thought, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. His smile was a deadly weapon. With her free hand, Chiaki reached out and traced his curved lips, shakily.

"You should smile more often," she said, dropping her hand. "It's a beautiful thing."

If anything, his smile widened a fraction. For the next hour or so, they sat in companionable silence, holding each other's hand. They said a few words here and there, but nothing concrete enough to be considered a conversation. That would come. Now was the time for just being in each other's presence. Presently, Chiaki found herself getting tired. The high from when she confessed was wearing off rapidly, leaving her truly tired. When she yawned drowsily for the fifth time in the space of a few minutes, Naru drew her to her feet gently.

"You're tired," he said.

"Yeah, I am," she replied with a sleepy smile.

"Come on," he said, shifting his grip on her hand so that he had a better hold. "I'll walk you back to your room."

She smiled impishly. "Just to clarify for you—that does not count as a first date."

Naru smirked. "Then, I suppose when we're done with this case I'll have to make that up to you."

"I'm looking forward to it. And no Beatles, please."

"I was never fond of them—but don't tell my Mother. She'll be absolutely heartbroken. She tried so hard to instill their greatness in me when I was small." He stopped when they reached the room that Chisato had given to Chiaki. "Good night," he said softly, squeezing her hand gently before letting go.

With a happy, albeit somnolent smile, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, enjoying the sight of his eyes widening from utter shock. "Good night. Hope that brings you sweet dreams," she said, slipping into the room she shared with Ayako and Masako. With a final smile, she closed the door softly.

Naru stood there for a few minutes, processing exactly what had just transpired. "_'You're the type of person who looks before you leap.'"_ Mai had said that to him, he recalled, because he was so cautious with work. The first day she'd started working for him, replacing Lin as his assistant she'd used that phrase to describe him. Unconsciously, the hand that Chiaki had been holding rose to caress the spot where her lips had touched.

_You're wrong Mai. I don't think I'm very cautious at all. I'm about to take a blind leap of faith off that gaping cliff into a relationship._ He gave a sardonic smile at his self-description. Turning, he started back to the base room. "Wish me luck," he said to no one in particular.

_Good luck, Noll._

_Thanks, Gene. I'm probably going to start wondering what I've gotten myself into._

He felt Eugene smile. _Don't think that way. Think of it as an adventure._

_As a rule, I hate adventures._

_Well then you're screwed. Might as well sit back and enjoy it, _Gene replied, with a shrug.

_You've got a dirty mind, you know that?_ Naru replied back, shaking his head bemusedly.

_At least I'm normal. Not to burst your bubble, but be careful, Noll. Things are likely going to get dangerous. Talk to Mai tomorrow._

Naru stopped, becoming all business again. _About what?_

No answer. Gene had gone. Naru entered the base room and looked at the monitors that the camera was feeding information to. All seemed to be running smoothly. Running a hand through his hair, the young man decided he should take a short nap. Settling himself onto the couch, he draped his jacket over him and drifted off.

It was an almost irony that Chiaki's kiss had indeed brought him sweet dreams.

………

The next morning Lin awoke to a flurry of activity that included a dog barking excitedly, children moaning; a mother snapping somewhat impatiently that they had to go to school—they couldn't stay home, and if they didn't leave within the next few minutes, they were going to miss the bus and walk to school (Lin presumed that 'they' meant the children—unless she'd been talking to the dog); a man calling good bye, he'd see them in a few hours, and a surprised shriek that might or might not have been Mai. Groggily, he opened his eyes and found himself alone in the bed. Blinking, he sat up slowly and looked around for Mai. It occurred to him a few minutes later that he wasn't just alone in the bed; he was alone in the _room_. Mai must have left earlier to shower and change her clothes. Trying to stifle a yawn, he looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight in the morning. He sighed. Naru was going to be most upset. Well, that was too bad. He was entitled to sleep at some point.

Drawing back the covers, Lin got out from bed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. His first order of business, he decided, was shower and dress in fresh clothing. He located a fresh suit in short order and walked to the bathroom closest. It was open so he took advantage of that, showering quickly and then dressing. That taken care of, he retreated back to his room. Picking up the tie, he slung it around his neck and tied it quickly, straightening his collar after; vest and suit coat followed, socks and slippers. Suitably presentable, Lin left the room, still straightening his tie. He found Mai in the base room, alone and on her cell phone. Her free hand was massaging the bridge of her nose as if she were trying to ward off a headache. From the phone, Lin could hear what he described as excited squawking. He wondered whom she was talking to.

When she saw him, she gave him a wan smile before turning back her attention to the person she was talking to. "But sensei, I didn't hand my pamphlet in. I was about to email you before you called," she said, moving over to the laptop. It was open to her school email.

"But McLaughlin-san said that you asked him to turn it in since you had to leave so suddenly."

At the mention of the person whom she deemed a creepy pest that should be shipped back to America—post-haste all shipping included—Mai's temper began to boil. "I most certainly did not," she snarled. Lin settled his hand on the small of her back and caught her eyes, silently telling her to calm down—it wasn't the teacher's fault. "I wouldn't ask someone like him to hand something in for me, sensei. I'm _not_ that irresponsible."

"Taniyama…" the professor said, with a sigh. "I really don't understand your dislike of the man. He's really very nice."

_Nice? My boyfriend's Shikigami wanted to kill him after a few seconds of being around him. That's saying something!_ "Sensei," Mai said, "I really have no desire to write a report on the dancing shoes. And I didn't write that on the pamphlet that McLaughin-san turned in for me. I actually didn't choose anything to write on. Perhaps I can choose something else?"

"Taniyama, do you know just how many kids put down 'weapons,' 'cooking utensils,' 'medical instruments,' and other such related items?"

"No, I don't."

"Too many, Taniyama-san, far too many. I'll be reading at least ten papers on those three subjects. _No one_ chose clothing."

"That's because the corsets scared them."

Her professor chuckled. "You're probably right. They didn't sit very well with me, either."

"What about jewelry?" she asked.

"I have at least twenty claims on that, I think; it was a very popular choice. Please stick with the dancing shoes. Extra marks if you do."

Extra marks—the professor knew her weak point. Mai sighed. "Very well."

"Good. Now, you're speaking to McLaughlin-san, when?"

"Thursday around noon. I'll be back in Tokyo for that."

"McLaughlin-san actually changed hotels to one in Shibuya. He thought that the part of Tokyo he was in was far too busy for his liking."

_So how is Shibuya any better? _Mai wondered, feeling a trickle of fear slide down her spine. Lin caught that look and rubbed her back, tenderly. She managed a smile. He wondered what would happen if he told the police that the man was a deranged stalker. "Well then, that'll make it easier for me," she said.

"I thought it might. I'm so glad I suggested it. Now, he suggested that he just pick you up from work, so if you could give me the address of SPR?"

"Impossible," Mai said, shaking her head. "I'm not at the office. If I were, you wouldn't have reached me on my cell phone. And McLaughlin-san _may not_ come to our client's house while we are currently on an investigation."

"You're on an investigation, still?"

"Yes, Sensei," Mai said, patiently.

"I would have thought you'd have finished with that already. You're always telling me how smart Shibuya-san and Lin-san are and how great a team you have."

"All true. Despite that, sensei, we just began our investigation yesterday afternoon. We're not miracle workers and at the present, we have suspicions and naught else. Please tell McLaughlin-san that Yasuhara-kun and I will keep our appointments with him and we'll meet him in Shibuya."

"Mai, do you have a problem with McLaughlin-san?" the professor asked.

_Being creepy isn't a crime, is it? How about the fact that he chose me to be a victim?_

Before she could answer, Lin moved the cell phone away from her ear and bent down, kissing her fully on the mouth. "Good morning," he said.

"Taniyama? Who is that?"

"Ah, good morning, Lin," she said, struggling to not drop the cell phone onto the carpeting.

Unbeknownst to either, Chisato had intended to say something to back Mai up with a stranger coming to her house—and how _dare_ that teacher even think that it would be acceptable—therefore, she'd witnessed the entire event. It seemed that Mai wasn't just infatuated with Lin-san, she was in a relationship with him. And for some reason, that bothered her.

Logically, Chisato knew it was none of her business, but Mai was far too young to be taken advantage of by the Chinese man. Frowning, she stepped away from the den door without drawing attention to herself. Still, she couldn't help but feel unsettled by the entire thing. But it could wait—she would talk to Alejandro when he got home. Until then, she had work to do.

Lin took the phone from Mai's unresisting fingers. "Hisae-sensei, Mai will have to talk with you later," he said, spying Naru and Chiaki walking into the base room, followed by Hara-san, Matsuzaki-san and Takigawa-san. Looking at Naru, he frowned. The boy seemed to be in… dare he say it…? Good spirits and Chiaki-san was positively radiant, something that definitely didn't go unnoticed by either Matsuzaki-san or Hara-san. "Our day is about to start," he finished, watching the rest troop into the base room. "Until then," he told her, hanging up.

He handed the phone back to Mai and received a small smile from her.

Naru perched himself against the table, being mindful of the computers. He frowned at the group. Conversation ceased and all attention went to him. Looking at each of them in turn, he began. "We all heard the crying last night." He cast a look towards Hara-san and Mai. "It was an eventful night last night, with Mai and Hara-san sharing a vision. The microphones picked up a good quantity of sound. Lin, go through it and see if you can't hear any words or phrases."

"Right," he said, nodding.

"The night camera's didn't pick up anything, unfortunately, but the thermograph picked up something very interesting in the backyard."

_That's right,_ Mai thought, unconsciously shivering as she remembered talking to Eugene last night. Her eyes went wide and glassy and she continued to shiver. _Last night, that mist was from the temperature! It was so cold I couldn't breathe!_

"Mai?" Naru asked.

"Last night… the lake and the immediate area around it must have been around minus nineteen point forty-four degrees Celsius," she said. "I don't know why I didn't think that waking up cold had some connection to my dream."

"The temperature was exactly nineteen point forty-four degrees Celsius at the lake," Naru said, frowning.

"I talked with Gene last night," she told the assembled group. "He showed me the houses surrounding this lake." She pinned Naru with her eyes. They were full of determination and conviction. "They all have young children, Naru. And he told me that the children don't always die. He pointed out the house across from this one in particular. That child was attacked by something, I'm sure of it!"

Naru watched her silently for a few seconds before nodding. "John, go with Mai and talk to that family again. Chiaki, Yasuhara-san, go back to the other houses and ask the families if their children also experienced some sort of attack. Bou-san, Hara-san, please take a stroll around the lake and see if you can pick anything up. Matsuzaki-san, please visit the Shinto Shrine and ask why they weren't able to do anything about the spirit here. Get any information that you can."

"Right," she said.

"What are you going to do?" Chiaki asked.

"More and more I'm convinced that we're dealing with a Hispanic specter. The question is, which one. I'm going to see what I can find. Everyone know what I want them to do?" When they nodded, he turned away, dismissing them.

Squeezing Mai's hand and grazing her knuckles with his lips, Lin made his way over to the equipment and took a seat. Picking up the earphones, he put them on, brought up the command prompt on the laptop screen and put in a line to make the recording go back and start from the beginning. Crying filled the earphones—Lin adjusted the volume and began to listen intently for anything other than the crying. Naru sat down next to him and began to use a different computer for research. The group began to disperse. John took a pad and a pen with him and followed Mai out the door. Chiaki followed suit and walked with Yasuhara-san, but not before squeezing Naru's fingers discreetly and receiving a return squeeze. Lin smiled when he saw that. It seemed that Naru had decided to move on rather than mope. Matsuzaki-san left the base room next, announcing that she needed to change. Naru tuned the rest out.

………

"Here we are, Mai-san."

"Yeah," Mai said, looking up at the house. "Did Yasuhara-kun or Chiaki-chan actually get any information?"

"No clue. Shall we?" the priest asked, smiling at his friend.

"Might as well get this over with," she said following him up to the door and letting him do the honors.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

The person who answered the door introduced herself as Kotobashi Emi. And when she heard what John and Mai wanted, she wasn't very happy. "Honestly," she huffed, aiming a glare at John. "You were here yesterday with someone else asking us questions. Haven't you bothered us enough?"

"Kotobashi-san," Mai said, trying to placate the woman, "we really are sorry for the inconvenience. But the more information we have, the quicker we can solve this case."

"Oh, fine!" she said explosively. "Ask away, ask away."

Mai shared a look with John before turning back to the woman. "Actually, Kotobashi-san… we were hoping we could talk to your son, Ju'nna-kun? Makoto-kun mentioned that they're really good friends." At Emi's suddenly fierce look, Mai added hastily, "And I don't think that Makoto-kun told me everything, maybe he told Ju'nna something?"

"Ju'nna's sick, I'm afraid," she said, moving to shut the door. "He's getting over a cold."

Mai's hand shot out surprising John and Emi. "He was attacked by something, wasn't he?" Mai asked.

The door was suddenly flung open and Emi stepped out, furious. "You know who did it, don't you?" she screeched. "Don't you!"

"Kotobashi-san!" John said, placing himself in front of Mai. "How could we have had anything to do with it? We just arrived in this neighborhood yesterday! Ask the Takamotos if you don't believe me!"

Mai stepped away from John and looked at Kotobashi Emi seriously. "Not who," she said, "more like what. Please, Kotobashi-san. Let us talk to him. I think we can help."

Emi seemed to deflate before their very eyes. The wild, accusing look disappeared from her eyes and was replaced with tears. Quickly, she motioned them inside and shut the door. "I'm sorry. It's just… I've been on such an edge! I don't know what happened! And… he won't say a _word!_ I asked Rabbi Cohen to talk to Ju'nna and he told me that all Ju'nna said was _'I'm not her child; I'm not her child.'_ He didn't know what to make of it. But, if you think you can get him to talk then best of luck. I'll show you to his room."

Mai smiled. "He'll talk to us, I promise," she said, making a mental note to interview Rabbi Cohen.

"This way, then," she said, leading them further into the house and stopping in front of a door with a placard on it. Reaching out, Emi knocked twice on the door. "Ju'nna-kun, you have visitors. I'm opening the door, sweetie."

Ju'nna was lying on his stomach, with his back to the door. His legs swung sporadically in the air. Emi opened the door wider and motioned them inside. Entering the room, Mai looked to Emi for confirmation. She closed the door and leaned back against it, giving Mai a solemn nod as a go-ahead. Turning back to the boy who still hadn't acknowledged his guests, Mai approached his side and sank to her knees.

"Hi, Ju'nna-kun. I'm Taniyama Mai! Nice to meet you!"

There was no response. John looked at Emi who shrugged as if to say, "'see? Told you so.'" Mai wasn't deterred in the least. Leaning a bit, she peeked at what he was doing. Manga. "What series are you reading?" she asked, motioning to the manga that looked well-read. Wordlessly, the boy lifted the comic book and showed it to her. "_Yugioh"_ she thought. _Ah well, at least it's something._ Not that she had the greatest knowledge of the series, but she did recall reading a few of the comic books before deciding it just wasn't her style.

"Jounouchi was my favorite character," she said, conversationally. "And hey! Do you remember that teacher in the first few volumes that wore too much makeup? I think she got what she deserved!"

Ju'nna blinked and looked over at Mai. "What's your favorite duel monster?" he asked finally, with a hint of suspicion.

Emi's mouth dropped opened in shock. For the last couple of days, Ju'nna hadn't said a word to her. But this young lady, Mai-- she'd done it! That girl was a positive miracle worker!

"Hmm… my favorite duel monster?" she asked, putting her finger to her lower lip and looking at the ceiling. "Let me think…"

Ju'nna watched her patiently, his eyes wary and waiting to denounce her for a liar. She didn't know the series at all and he was certain of it!

"It was a creepy looking card, but Demon Summons was cool. So was Exodia. Not sure which I liked better," Mai said finally.

Ju'nna looked at her with new respect and she smiled back at him. "I bet you thought I was going to say Blue Eyes White Dragon, didn't you? I didn't mind the card, but the person who wanted it…nah. So, did I pass?" she asked, smiling at him.

Grinning back at her, he sat up. "You're cool," he said.

"Why thank you!" Mai said, ruffling his hair. Her expression turned serious. "Ju'nna-kun, surely you know why we're here, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so," he said, nodding. "There were two of you here yesterday, too."

"That's right," Mai said. "But they wanted to talk to your parents. I, however, want to talk to you. Is that okay?"

He shrugged. "Sure," he said, casting a look back at his mom.

Emi smiled. "I'll go make some tea," she said, slipping out. It didn't take long for her to return with tea and cookies. When the brunette saw the treats, an idea came to her. Once the door clicked shut, Mai turned back to Ju'nna. "Let me tell you a little secret," Mai said, appropriating the cookies. "I have a friend that appears to me in my dreams."

"Really? Does he talk to you?" Ju'nna asked, his voice curious, curious enough that he didn't notice the missing cookies.

"He sure does. In fact, he's the one who told me to talk to you."

"What's his name?"

"His name is Gene."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Mai chuckled. "Hardly. Anyhow, Ju'nna-kun, there was something that Gene told me last night that could correspond with the phrase you told Rabbi Cohen when he tried to talk to you." Ju'nna's face turned dark when she mentioned the rabbi. Mai ploughed on, undeterred. "But Rabbi Cohen didn't know the right questions to ask. I do. That's the big difference between us. Now…" she said, dividing the cookies between them. John approached, fascinated. What was Mai going to do? "Let's play a game," she announced, flipping the manga shut and ignoring his surprised squawk. "Rules are simple—I'm going to ask you questions and if I like your answer, you'll get a cookie from me. If I think you're not telling me the truth or holding back, I'll take a cookie from you. Whoever has the most cookies wins. All right?"

"Yeah!"

"No chowing down until the game is done," she warned. "Okay, first question. You've heard the crying haven't you?"

"Of course. Everyone on this block has," Ju'nna said, rolling his eyes.

Mai handed him a cookie. "When you say block, you mean around the lake, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Hey!" the boy said, indignantly. "What was that for?" he demanded, when Mai took two cookies.

"That wasn't a good answer," she responded primly, dropping the chocolate chip confections back to her pile. "Next question. Did you _see_ anything? Think carefully, Ju'nna. There are no right or wrong answers."

"Yeah, I've seen her. She scares me. She's all wet; her hair has weeds in it, blood drips from her fingers and her eyes. Her skin is…" he shivered. "It's all bluish-gray and gross." He looked Mai in the eyes. "It was all wet and slimy."

Mai gave him two cookies. "Did you hear her say anything?" she asked.

The young boy made a face. "She said, 'Hijos mios.' But… in my mind I heard her say, 'My child, where is my child?'"

Another cookie joined his pile. "Tell me about the time when she attacked you."

Ju'nna started. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Mai took a cookie from his pile. "Ju'nna-kun," she said reprovingly, waving the confection at him. "Remember the rules of the game. Besides, you said her skin was slimy and gross. It's pretty hard to see all that detail in the dark unless you're up close and personal."

The little boy hung his head. "I was sitting outside with my telescope," he said, motioning to the covered thing in the corner of his room. "Science homework this week is to observe the constellations for this season and record which ones we see," he told her, rolling his eyes. "It must have been around eight-thirty because that's when mom call me inside to get ready for bed. She called and I told her a few more minutes—I was almost done. That's when the crying started. At first, I really didn't think anything of it—except that it was _annoying_. But then it got weird."

Mai gave him a cookie. "How so?" she asked.

"It got really cold. I mean really cold. It's spring right now! Then, the temperature drops to below freezing! I felt like it was winter all over again. My breath… you know the puff you see when you exhale in really cold weather? I could see that. The windows around me _iced_ over. And then there she was. Standing right in front of me, blood dripping from her dirty hands; her fingernails— " he shuddered. "And her eyes—she was crying; I could see the tears. There was blood mixed with them, I'm sure of it."

Another cookie joined his pile. John was now sitting next to them, making it a semi-circle. "What happened then?" the priest asked, his face solemn.

He started, surprised. Glancing at John, he looked down at the growing pile of cookies. "Before I could ask if she needed help, she disappeared and then reappeared not too far from the lake. I got up and walked to the half-way point between my backyard and the lake. That's as far as my mom says I can go. But that's all she needed," he said. "She… I don't know _how_ she did it, but she somehow dragged me the rest of the way to the lake and pulled me into the water! The next thing I know, my dad's hauling me out of the water. I got a cold from it, so the doctor told me to stay home," he said, sounding dejected. His face brightened. "But I think I can go back tomorrow."

He looked at Mai and John. "Was that what you wanted?"

Mai nodded numbly before drawing the boy into her arms and giving him a big hug. He started to squirm. "Uh, hey! Oneesan!"

Mai let him go. "You're very brave, you know that?" she asked, putting her hand on top of his head. "You're a very brave boy. Go talk to your mother; she's been worried sick about you."

"What now?" John asked as they walked back to the Takamotos.

"Now I think Ofelia and Makoto have a ghost story they need to tell us."

………

With her husband and children out of the house, Chisato put the stereo on and loaded a CD. She was a huge fan of ABBA and when the movie soundtrack for Mamma Mia had become available, she'd made her husband order the DVD and the accompanying CD. The one thing about the stereo system that irked her was that it always picked up where it left off if the CD wasn't properly stopped. And this time was no different, she thought.

_"Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me, shining like the sun, smiling having fun, feeling like I'm number one. Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna find me, but I won't feel blue, like I always do… cause somewhere in the crowd, there's you!"_

The last strains of "Super Trouper" died away and she changed it to her favorite track, cranked up the volume and raised her voice to sing along with the music. _"You can dance! You can jive! Having the time your life! OO! See that girl? Watch that scene—being the dancing queen!"_

Naru sighed visibly and resisted the urge to bury his head in the couch cushions. He could hear their hostess even through the door. He looked at Lin enviously and wondered if the Chinese man would switch with him. He could research and Naru would try to find something in the tapes.

Uncaring of what anyone thought, Chisato ploughed on, singing the lyrics slightly off-key. Moving to the music, she scrubbed the kitchen top to bottom. "Dancing Queen" ended and "Voulez-Vous" came on. Not as fond of this song as she was "Dancing Queen" she didn't bother to sing along—instead, she turned on the vacuum cleaner. When her husband returned a few hours later, Chisato was singing along happily with "S.O.S." It took her a second to realize that her husband had turned off the stereo system and was standing in the doorway of the bathroom she was nearly done with. Turning off the shower spray she turned to her husband and smiled at him.

"You're home," she said, going over to him and planting a loving kiss on his lips.

He smiled but wrinkled his nose. "You smell like bleach," he commented, sliding his arms around her.

"You're welcome to do the cleaning for me while I put up my feet and relax," she said.

"Sure," he said, easily. "How about this weekend?"

"You!" she said, swatting his arm playfully. "I know you hate cleaning with a passion."

"But I'll help if you need me to."

Chisato shook her head. "I'm pretty much done." She turned back to the bathtub she'd been cleaning and gave it a final spray with the showerhead to get rid of any remaining cleaner. She watched the water swirl down the drain before shutting the water off and wiping her hands on a towel she'd tucked into her jeans. Turning, she looked back at her husband, put her hands on her hips, and announced firmly, "I need to talk to you."

He blinked a bit in surprise; she sounded very serious. "All right," he said.

Walking to the door, she slipped past her husband, grabbed his arm, and led him to the direction of their bedroom. Inside their bedroom, she released her husband and closed the door. She began to pace.

He sat down on the corner of the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked, watching her movements. Something was bothering her, all right. Chisato only paced when she was troubled. The more troubled she got, the faster she paced.

"Yesterday evening while I was in the process of making dinner, Mai-chan was talking to me about Lin-san. She didn't explain exactly why Ginger responded as she did, all she said was that there was a good reason for it. As she was talking, it became apparent, to me at least, that she harbored feelings for the man. This morning… well, it seems that her feelings are reciprocated." She stopped talking and looked at her husband, expecting to see a livid look on his face. Instead he looked almost… bored.

"So?" he asked.

She exploded. "So! So? He kissed her; he interrupted her phone conversation and kissed her! He's probably taking advantage of her! You need to say something to him!"

"And exactly how does that concern us, Chisato? It's not our business, honey," he said, trying to convince his wife that she was barking up the wrong tree. _And why is she even bothering with this,_ he wondered. _Normally, she'd simply leave a situation like this alone. She usually doesn't poke in other people's business. So why is she,_ he wondered, perplexed, watching his wife closely. She was extremely agitated; he could see it in her increased pacing around the room. A thought struck him; it was almost as if she thought of Mai as her own child—absurd, really, she'd only met the girl yesterday. Still… "We're not her parents and we're not his employer. We don't have a right to say anything. Darling—Mai is not your child."

That seemed to break the spell and bring her back to herself. Her angry expression disappeared and was replaced by a bewildered one instead. "You're right," she said slowly, looking at him with a faintly puzzled look in her eyes. To Alejandro, that look seemed to ask, 'what were we talking about again?' The door opened again and their children entered the house, calling for her. The puzzlement left her face and she smiled ruefully at her husband.

"Let's go greet the little monsters," she said, as if their previous conversation had never happened. Pulling him up from the bed, she led him out of the bedroom. As they went to the vestibule, hand-in-hand, he wondered about the strange discussion they'd just had.

Inside the freshly cleaned bathroom, water started to trickle upwards from the drain, slowly filling the inside of the tub with dirty, foul smelling, brackish water.

**Later that night…**

"They'll have to talk to you later, I'm afraid," Chisato said coldly, when Lin asked if Makoto and Ofelia could be spared to tell them their ghost story. She'd remembered what she'd been telling her husband; Alejandro's response, however, had disappeared from her mind. Her anger towards Lin had returned in force. "They're doing homework right now."

Lin blinked, trying to figure out why the woman had become so hostile towards him all of the sudden. Perhaps she still had concerns from yesterday afternoon? "It might be pertinent to our investigation, however. Please reconsider. It's only for a short period of time."

"I doubt it's any use to you all. It's a ghost story—a myth, and it will have to wait," she said, putting the last plate into the dishwasher and shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

"You would be surprised to learn just how many times stories and myths can actually be useful in psychic investigations. After all, most myths and legends often have factual basis behind them."

"Oh, like Big Foot," she asked, her voice sardonic.

"I said most, not all," Lin countered. He fell silent, watching her. Just what was this person's problem with him? "Takamoto Chisato-san, have I offended you somehow?" he asked, quietly.

"Not at all! Why do you ask?" There was no cynicism in her voice, but the way she'd phrased it set the sorcerer on edge.

"Then perhaps you're still concerned about what happened when your dog decided to greet me?"

"No… Mai-chan mentioned that there was a good reason for that."

"So there is. But Takamoto-san, if I haven't offended you and you're not concerned with the Ginger-incident, then might I ask what _is_ wrong? You've been hostile towards me since dinner."

"There's nothing wrong. I've been cleaning all day and it makes me cross, that's all."

The sorcerer wasn't sure why she thought he would fall for such a transparent excuse. "That may be; however, I haven't seen you take that temper out on anyone else… except me. I seem to be the most unhonored recipient of your wrath for unknown reasons."

"Then you're imagining things, Lin-san."

"Takamoto-san," he chided.

Chisato sighed. With that, she seemed to deflate. Pulling out one of the bar chairs, she perched herself on the edge and looked at him squarely. "I wish you'd not take advantage of that sweet, young lady."

Lin's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

She shook her head. "You heard me. There's no need for me to repeat myself."

An understanding look dawned on his face. "Mai," he said. "You think I'm playing around with her, possibly taking advantage for my own amusement."

Chisato didn't have to say anything; her expression gave it all away.

"I'm sorry if I strike you as that type of person," Lin said, shaking his head. "I admit that we're seeing each other under romantic pretexts, but I am not taking advantage of her. I'm not a monster, Chisato-san."

She didn't look convinced.

"Takamoto-san, Mai and I have been seeing each other for a year and three months—nearly four. And should I ever do anything to hurt her, I can personally guarantee you that none of the others will stand for it. I'm sure they'll make me regret it, if I do."

Chisato looked at him suspiciously.

He allowed some of his frustration to show, "Do you honestly think that Takigawa-san would stand for that? He's like an older brother to her; he wouldn't allow me to get away with hurting her, even if I said a badly phrased comment. Matsuzaki-san would likely poison me; Yasuhara-san would find a way to get even, and I don't want to think about what Brown-san would do if I were to somehow hurt Mai."

"And Shibuya-san?"

"I have no clue what he would do. Probably try to ship me back to London. Either way, Takamoto-san, Mai and I are in a relationship. I do make her happy—I hope. And…whether or not you choose to believe it, she makes me happy."

_Liar!_ That one word echoed in her mind and Chisato flinched, but agreed whole-heartedly. _He's lying to me.  
_

Lin turned to leave the kitchen. Before he crossed the doorway he looked back at her, his expression frigid; Chisato felt chills wracking her body; it was enough to snap her back to her senses. "And you know what, Takamoto-san? It's really none of your business. When your children are done with their homework and the hour isn't too late, could you spare them to tell us a ghost story?" he asked, leaving the kitchen and heading back towards the base.

The minute he was out her kitchen, her anger returned in force. Chisato watched his retreating figure with an angry glint in her eyes.

As Lin was passing the vestibule, the door opened, revealing Ayako. And she didn't look happy. "I'm back," she announced.

"Welcome back," he greeted as she fell into step with him. "How did it go?"

"That damned old codger!" she snarled, raising a fist.

Lin quirked a brow at her outburst. "Dare I even ask?"

"Not only did he make me wait, he—" she stumbled and nearly crashed to the ground. Lin caught her elbow just in time and steadied her. "What the?" Ayako looked down at the floor, perplexed. There didn't seem to be any dog toys so that hadn't been the cause. "Is this the bathroom door?" she asked, jerking her thumb at the door she'd stopped in front of.

"No," Lin responded. "That's Ofelia's room. The bathroom is over there," he told her, pointing to the door they'd passed on the right hand side of the hallway. "Why?"

"It's all wet over here," the priestess said, looking at the puddle she'd just slipped in.

"The dog had an accident. I'll let you do the honors of telling Takamoto-san. She doesn't seem to like me very much."

Ayako shook her head. "That's water," she said. "Not urine. After working in a hospital for so long, I can tell."

"If that's the case… then where is it coming from?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling and not finding a leak or wet spot on the ceiling. His eyes narrowed. It wasn't raining either. So where was the water coming from?

A droplet landed on Ayako's shoulder and she looked up. She gasped and grabbed his sleeve. "Look!" she commanded sharply, pointing to something.

Lin followed the direction her finger was pointing. His eyes went wide. Water was dripping in a slow, steady beat from the mezuzah on the doorpost. "Something tried to get inside," he said steadily.

Ayako nodded. "But what?"

They heard the bubbling come from the bathroom at the same time and shared a grim look with each other.

"I think we're about to find out," Lin said grimly, turning to the bathroom and readying himself to use the _kuji_ should he need to. "Go back to the base room, Matsuzaki-san," he told her.

"What are you saying?" Ayako asked. "I can fight, too. Did you forget that I beat all those zombies without the aid of that stupid monk and John?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then you can forget about me returning."

"Matsuzaki-san!" Lin said, letting out an aggrieved sigh. His breath turned into a wispy puff in front of him and he flinched from the sudden onset of the cold; his mouth settled into a grim line. There was no more time. Whatever it was would appear soon. He heard the tell-tale pounding of feet—Hara-san had probably warned the others that something had come to visit. A few seconds lat

"Lin-san! Matsuzaki-san!"

"Brown-san." He spared a glance to see that Takigawa, Naru, and Mai had also appeared. A little further away stood Hara-san, Yasuhara-san, and Kasai-san.

"Hara-san," Lin asked. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

The medium shook her head, frantically. "I don't know!"

"Hey, hey, what's all the commotion?" From the other direction, the Takamotos had come down the hall.

_**Mis hijos.**_ Mai shivered as the words slid through her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shouted to the family, "Alejandro-san! Get away! Whatever it is wants your children! You have to get them away—"

Too late. The creature appeared at the bathroom door and stepped out. Ginger's snarling became more pronounced and threatening as she readied herself to attack. Mai's eyes widened and she backed away just a bit. She might have once been pretty, but now… she was hideous. Rags hung on an emaciated, rotting body. Her hair hung in lank, wet, clumps down her back, blood dripped from her fingernails and her fingers were curled into claws that twitched spasmodically, as if they searched for something. But it was her eyes that drew all the attention… her eyes were the worst. Greenish-blue, they seemed to peer through everything while seeing nothing. Her lashes were coated with thick wells of blood that mixed with tears and ran down sagging cheeks. Mai started to tremble and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she stared at the specter that had tried to drown Ju'nna. She heard the children cry out and the creature turned to them.

"No! Not them!" Mai cried. The creature turned to her.

"Mai!" Naru said, trying to silence her.

But she would have none of it. "You leave them alone! They're not your children! You can't have them!"

"Mai!"

What transpired next would persevere in their memories. Alejandro stepped forward placing himself in front of his wife and children. "Mother?" he asked, his face shocked.

**A/N:** And that brings chapter three to a close! Don't forget to thank the authoress's beta-reader TitianWren for all her incredible work!

For those of you who don't know Spanish, I'm going to include the translation down here. Thanks much to dazi_rani for the translation.

**Alejo, consola a tu hermana!

Alejo, comfort your sister.

**Mama, regresamos a nuestra casa!

Mama, we should go home!

**No podemos. Ya no es tiempo, sera pronto, sera pronto, sera pronto, pronto, pronto. Te lo prometo.

We can't. Not now. Soon, soon. I promise you.

**Los arryos!

The washes!

In other news, I was really pleased with how the scene between Chiaki and Naru went. I thought the narcissist would give me a much harder time! Depending on how things go, their first date should be either chapter four or five! I'm very excited for them! What should I have them do, I wonder? Oh, anyhow.

Some of you have already guessed what specter we're dealing with. I would ask that you keep it to yourselves. All will be revealed in chapter four which is titled "So I married a bigamist." Chapter four may or may not be the end of this story's segment. Planning it in my mind now, with all the elements I have to include, I'm highly doubting that it will be the end of this section.

I should like to note that I do not mind when people Private Message me and ask me how the next chapter is progressing. I don't bite. And every now and again, I do need a kick start. So feel free to PM me and ask me questions. Last but not least, it is permissible to feed the authoress. It makes her write faster to know what you all think. See you all in chapter four!


	4. Sins of the Past

**Chapter Four: Sins of the Past**

Alternative title: So I married a bigamist…

_**A/N:** _No, I did not give up on this story. It went on hold until I was finished with school. Thanks to those who Private Messaged me and favorited my story. I would like to give a large thanks to Aishoka and TitanWren for their beta-reading. I would also like to thank everyone who's supported this story. Thank you to honeycorrupts for her awesome translating skills. I have written a back story/legend for the La Llorona (instead of using one on the internet). If anyone is interested in reading it, it will be available at my writing journal at aeynera. livejournal. com. Just remove the spaces. And without further ado!

_**Last time on Dancing Queen…**_

"Gene pointed to one house in particular. That child was attacked, I'm sure of it!"

"Yasuhara-san, Chiaki, please go to the other houses again and ask if the children suffered some sort of attack."

"What are you going to do?" Chiaki asked.

"More and more I'm convinced that we're dealing with a Hispanic specter. The question is, which one?"

Water dripped in a slow steady beat from the mezuzah on the doorpost. "Something tried to get inside," Lin said, steadily.

_**Mis hijos…**_

"Mother?" Alejandro asked, his face shocked.

…

Naru stared at the computer screen in front of him with a thoughtful look on his face. So far, his search into the legend of La Llorona had returned a plethora of results. But one thing that didn't change from legend to legend no matter which he read was that, while alive, La Llorona was a beautiful woman who killed her children and was condemned to wander the earth until she found them. She would take naughty children, or those who were out too late at night. Looking away from the computer screen, Naru closed his tired eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his hands. He didn't look up, but he did stiffen a bit when Chiaki's hands gently grasped his shoulders and began to massage them. Willing himself to relax, he leaned into the impromptu massage with a small sigh.

"Why don't you take a break?" she suggested softly.

"Can't," he muttered. "I just don't understand what this is. Everything here matches the pattern of a Crying Woman. Everything," he said, "except for the dead children. Alejandro-san and his sister Rosalie are still alive. So what now?" he asked, trying to will his exhausted mind to come up with something plausible. He had no idea why this case was taking so much out of him. It was hardly as difficult as some of the others he'd solved in the past.

"We have a variation," Lin said, closing the door.

"Welcome back," Chiaki said, continuing to massage Naru's shoulders. "How did it go?"

"The wards are up. The bathrooms are safe, for now. Mai and Yasuhara-san just got Makoto-kun and Ofelia-chan to sleep, and last I saw, Alejandro-san was with his wife. Brown-san was there, as well. I don't know how Chisato-san is doing as of now. We'll have to wait for Alejandro-san to give us his report."

Naru nodded and turned to Lin. "How can she be a Llorona when her children are alive?"

"It's possible that she believes her children are dead."

Naru frowned. "Explain," he said.

"I was thinking about it as I put up the wards outside. I wondered the exact same thing. Mai commented that in the vision she and Hara-san shared, they saw Carmen dead. But," Lin said, "Mai is pretty positive that she and Hara-san saw part of their vision from Carmen's view point and the other part from one of the children, Alejandro-san or Rosalie-san. At the age that Alejandro-san must have been—around five, maybe six—it's likely that when he saw his mother not breathing or moving, he assumed that she was dead. The reality is, it was storming—probably a monsoon, the car was filling with water, and Alejandro-san had a younger sister to deal with who was probably terrified; I'm willing to bet that he was scared as well. At that point, he didn't exactly have time to make absolutely certain that his mother was dead. It's also likely that he didn't know how to be sure, either. So he got out of the car somehow with his sister and didn't look back.

"This next part is pretty far-fetched and completely theoretical, but it just might explain things. If Maria Carmen Takamoto wasn't dead… what if she experienced a hallucination? And in that hallucinated state, saw reality and thought it was otherwise?"

"Where are you going with this?" Naru asked. "How does this remotely explain how she became a Wailing Woman when her children are still alive?"

"Like I said, it's simply a theory. But imagine yourself in a car that's filling with water after crashing into a wash. You've probably never been to Arizona, but I have. I've got extended family living in the states and when that cousin retired, he moved to Arizona, don't ask me why. His neighborhood has several washes that surround it. And when the rain comes from the mountains, it fills the washes very quickly—and washes, Naru, have the tendency to flood. That's why a person driving should not enter them if there's a monsoon. So imagine that you've disobeyed this rule in your haste to get away from your husband who's threatened to take away your children and divorce you."

Naru watched Lin steadily for a moment before nodding his acquiescence. Leaning back in his chair, he cleared his mind and imagined himself as Carmen talking to her husband—who was currently informing her that he intended to leave her and take the children with him. Unable to allow or accept that, she'd made the split decision to leave as soon as she could. Take them somewhere safe until legally she could get them away from their father. They needed to leave soon; it was storming out and from the sounds of it, it was probably a monsoon. A monsoon meant summer—anywhere from July to September, probably. Vaulting up the stairs, she barged into her children's room, woke them, and urged them to dress. _They're probably complaining and asking why, but Carmen wouldn't have been able to take the time to answer, so instead, she just hurries them along; she'll answer them when they get to wherever it is she's decided to head. The other reason for her haste is the storm that's steadily getting worse—as storms usually do. Los arryos—the washes._ Surfacing from the reprieve, Naru could see with sickening clarity how easy it would have been in that situation to drive into a wash that was probably just starting to fill with water. The lashing rain, deafening thunder and blinding lighting made seeing beyond a few feet nigh unto impossible—Lin's theory was sounding more and more plausible.

He put himself back into the reverie and began from just crashing into a pole. Quite likely, she'd have blacked out for at least two or three minutes. Thunder probably caused her to wake again and for authenticity, as much as it blinded and made her head scream, a bright streak of lightning across a stygian sky that poured water also woke her.

"So, the children are working on escaping from the car, the storm is bad. Lightning and thunder, the whole nine yards. Let's say during a bad lighting strike, she wakes up to see her children exiting the car. Combined with the concussion, it might be possible to believe that she thought they were dead and saw their spirits leaving her. In that mindset, she could very well have believed that she killed her children, fulfilling the requirements to become a Llorona."

Naru turned the theory over and over in his mind. He had to admit that it sounded plausible. In her concussed state, she might have easily confused her living children with the spirits of her presumably dead children. "I'm inclined to agree with your theory; it's sound."

"But why did Maria Carmen attack her son?" Chiaki wondered, letting go of Naru's shoulders. "I mean, he's her son; why attack your own children?"

"I wonder who Alejandro-san looks more like? His mother, or his father."

Chiaki got it instantly. Her face turned a faint shade of red. "Ah, sorry."

"It's better to ask than not," Lin reminded.

"And she went after the kids probably because she sees her children in them," Chiaki continued. "Right?" she asked, looking at Naru.

"I'd say there's a good chance that's fact, not probability," he commented.

The door to the base room opened again and a haggard Mai and thoughtful looking Yasuhara-san entered. "We're back," Mai announced, unnecessarily.

"Welcome back," Lin said, drawing Mai into his arms and making her lean against him. She took the opportunity and allowed him to support her weight entirely by sagging against him. "How are they?" Lin asked.

"_Finally_ asleep," she reported, looking up at him. "I thought they never would. Ofelia insisted on telling us the story of La Llorona that she and Makoto-kun were told when they were younger." She rubbed her temples fiercely. "So we got both the Spanish and English/Japanese version and my head is _screaming_."

Lin dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I'll bet," he said, his voice sympathetic.

Mai looked around blearily. "Where's Ayako and Masako?"

"Down at the lake trying to sense something," Bou-san said, walking into the base room. He stopped in front of Mai and peered into her tired brown eyes. "How're you, kiddo?"

"Tired," she said peevishly. "And I'm not a kid."

"Whoa, whoa. Don't take it to heart. Sheesh. What's with everyone taking my head off?"

"I would never take your head off, Norio. You're much cuter with it on your shoulders," Yasuhara said, grinning at the monk roguishly.

"You," Takigawa groaned. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"But she could never replace you in my heart!"

"Cut that out," he snapped.

At Mai's exaggerated exhale, Lin raised his fingers to her temples and began to massage softly, hoping it would bring her some form of relief.

"Yasuhara-san?" Naru asked. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

"Is it possible that we're not exactly dealing with a Llorona?" the bespectacled boy asked, voicing his opinion.

"Please explain."

"La Llorona is just one crying ghost, right? There's a crying ghost in every culture, it seems, right? Greece, Mexico, Ireland, even Japan has something similar, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Is it possible that we're dealing with something very like La Llorona, but not really?"

"I'm afraid not," Naru responded. "It said, mis hijos. My children."

"That's the trademark for La Llorona," Lin explained when Yasuhara gave Naru a blank look. "Just as the trademark phrase of the Kuchisake Onna is 'watashi wa kirei?'"

"I see."

Before anyone could say more, the door opened again and Alejandro walked into the room looking even more tired and haggard than Mai did. In just a few short hours, his cheeks had sunk in, his eyes were hollow, and his skin was deathly pale. The green dress shirt that he'd been wearing since whatever time that morning was rumpled, bloody, and stuck to the worst of the wounds he'd gotten.

"Alejandro-san, how is your wife doing?" Lin asked, working through the kinks in Mai's neck.

"She's sleeping," he reported, rubbing his eyes. "I've tended to the wounds that my moth—that the Wailing Woman inflicted upon her. Her tears are clear now, I believe. She's no longer under that thing's influence—for now," he said darkly. "I also made her take a sleeping pill and she seems to be resting comfortably. Ginger's keeping her company and Brown-san is still praying over her; he said he'd be here as soon as he was finished." He turned to Mai. "Thank you for getting Ofelia and Makoto to bed," he started.

"No problem," Mai said, giving him a wan smile.

"Ofelia talked your ear off, didn't she?"

"Is it that obvious?" she asked ruefully. She waved away his next statement before he could speak it. "It's all right. I don't mind. Plus, we wanted to hear that story."

"That's only one story, however," Alejandro warned. "That one came from my mother's village. Each village had a different rendition of La Llorona and that included a different person and a different reason."

"How long have they been hearing that story?" Naru asked.

"Hmm… since they were little. I remember the first time I told Makoto the story. Chisato was so angry with me."

"Why?"

"Chisa-chan doesn't put much stock in folk stories. That of course never stopped her from telling the children some of her childhood stories, however—like the Namahage."

Mai grinned; even she remembered that.

"What happened to make you tell Makoto the story? He seems like such an obedient child," Yasuhara said.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd known him when he was four," he said. "You'd have wondered why we didn't give him up for adoption or drown him. Terrible Twos and Horrible Threes were a cakewalk compared to four with Makoto. Mako was four when he was first told the story of the Llorona. At that time, in Arizona, we couldn't get him to come inside. It was after a monsoon and the wash had swelled up. More water was sure to come down the mountains and make it flood. I was very upset when Makoto ignored me when I ordered him to come inside, so I went outside, grabbed him by the arm, dragged him back to the house, and said, 'Come in now, or La Llorona will take you away!' It was the same thing my grandmother would often say to Rosalie and me when we would misbehave." Alejandro shrugged. "That's when Makoto first heard the story. Anyhow, Chisato was so angry with me. She yelled at me all night long it seems," he recounted, wincing at the memory. "'Makoto's just a kid! Where do you get off telling him a violent story like that?'" he mimicked. "Ofelia heard it when she asked her me to tell her a story from when I was a kid. And again, Chisato went off on me." He fell silent and looked at Lin contemplatively. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Whatever for?" the Chinese man asked.

"For my wife. She told me of her concerns when she figured out that you and Taniyama-san were in a relationship. I told her it wasn't her business."

"So did I," Lin said.

Alejandro fidgeted and looked at the floor. "She still made a big deal out of it. I just don't understand. Normally, she wouldn't say anything."

"I can offer a theory for that, at least," Ayako said, having caught the tail end of Alejandro's speech. She waited for Masako to enter the room before closing the door.

"Welcome back, you two," Yasuhara greeted.

"You said you had a theory, Matsuzaki-san?" Naru asked.

"She thought that Mai was her child. That's why she was so upset with Lin; someone she viewed as a daughter was obviously with a bad man," she commented, tossing Lin an ironic glance. The Chinese man ignored her.

"I think Matsuzaki-san is rignt," Masako said primly.

"You do?" Ayako asked, surprised. "Are you sick?" she asked suspiciously. "You usually find fault with my theories."

"That's rude, Matsuzaki-san. I'm simply agreeing with you."

"As if that happens beyond a rare blue moon."

"Did either of you sense anything?" Naru asked, before an argument between the two women could blossom. At nearly three in the morning, Naru was certain his temper couldn't handle a petty fight between the miko and the medium.

Masako shook her head no, indicating that she hadn't sensed anything at all. Ayako also shook her head negatively, looking downright annoyed. "Not a damn thing."

"Did the priest offer you an explanation as to why he couldn't perform an exorcism?" Naru asked, keeping the priestess pinned with his stormy-blue eyes.

Ayako crossed her arms, looking impeccable and impressive despite the late hour. "All he told me was 'it doesn't understand.'"

"Doesn't understand?" Mai echoed, looking perplexed. "Doesn't understand what?"

Ayako turned to face her and dropped her arms. "I don't know. I'm inclined to think the language… but when I asked the priest why he didn't try something like English, he simply repeated that there was a lack of understanding."

"That's troublesome," Naru commented.

The door opened again and John stepped into the base room, disheveled.

"What happened to you?" Takigawa asked, staring at the blond priest whose vestments were covered in blond dog hair.

"Ah…" John grinned ruefully. "Ginger… was quite reluctant to let me leave," he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously. His expression turned serious and he looked at Alejandro. "I've said what prayers I could."

"Thank you, Father Brown," Alejandro responded, bowing.

"What are we talking about?" John asked, turning back to the rest of the group.

"We're not," Naru said. "Lin and Takigawa-san put up wards; Matsuzaki-san and Hara-san were unable to sense anything at the lake, and Matsuzaki-san also informed us that the priest that was asked to do an exorcism said that 'it didn't understand,' when he was asked why he wasn't able to do anything," the young ghost hunter replied in response. "Mai, what are you thinking?" he asked, peering at his investigator's thoughtful look.

Mai shook her head distractedly.

_Oh, no, _Naru thought. _No you don't. No saving this until you're ready to tell us. I've had quite enough of that._ "Puzzle your thoughts out loud," he ordered tersely.

"I'm thinking that we're missing a really big part of the puzzle."

Naru rolled his eyes. "Yes. I know."

Mai ignored his sarcastic comment. "The ghost story that Makoto and Ofelia told Yasuhara-san and me is part of it. The other part lies with how it fits into this case. We're dealing with a Llorona—here, in Japan. Am I the only one who find a Spanish ghost being here odd?"

"But don't some spirits follow people no matter where they go?" Yasuhara asked.

"Some do," Naru acknowledged. "But they're not usually ghosts like a Llorona. Those ghosts are usually confined to a region. But this one's traversed across the globe to get to you, Alejandro-san," Naru finished, glancing at the russet-skinned man who shrugged apologetically as if to say, 'sorry.'

"So what does that mean?" Alejandro asked.

"It means that this particular ghost is tied to you, somehow," Takigawa said grimly, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. "And that's not good news. You said it was your mother. What happened to her?" the monk asked.

Scrunching his brow, Alejandro frowned as he tried to recall. He shook his head. "I don't remember. I think she died in a car accident of sorts, but what brought that about, I don't know. And my grandparents wouldn't talk about it."

All members of SPR turned and focused on Mai and Masako; Mai shrank back a bit and Masako covered her mouth with her sleeve and looked away.

"You said that your grandparents refused to speak of the matter. Is there any way to find out?" Naru asked, looking back at Alejandro.

"My father would know. I know my grandparents told him about it, just before they informed him that they were taking custody of my sister and me. Is this important, Shibuya-san?"

"You've been told the legend of La Llorona for many years, yes? And you identified your mother as the Llorona that's been wailing outside for over a month now."

"True, but…"

"But the problem is, your mother shouldn't be a Llorona; you and your sister are very much alive. If anything that your mother should be, it would be a ghost that has regrets. But your mother is a Wailing Woman and she fits the story to nearly a T. In every legend of the Wailing Woman, two elements remain consistent: La Llorona was cheated by a man and her children are dead."

"You forgot one element," Alejandro said dryly.

Naru looked at him evenly.

"La Llorona was also very beautiful when she was alive. My mother was very beautiful—one of the most beautiful girls in the village where she was born. Everyone praised her beauty and poise."

"And yet," Naru continued, ignoring the third element, "despite you being very much alive, your mother is somehow a Llorona. I think that Mai is onto something; it is strange that this ghost appeared now—why now? Why not before hand? If at all possible, could you contact your father?"

Alejandro fidgeted for a second before looking at Naru. "I'll try. I haven't spoken to him in years, but I'll try; I have his phone number somewhere. I'll get him to come to Japan if needs be. I think it's time to air dirty laundry."

"That would be beneficial," Naru replied.

Alejandro fell silent for a moment, as if he was bolstering himself for something unpleasant. "Then, I'll contact him tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to bed."

That said, Alejandro left the base room. Naru turned to the SPR members and said, "That's that, then. Our first priority will be to get rid of the Llorona. Until we have further information on how Alejandro-san's mother became a Llorona, I'm afraid there's not much else we can do." He looked at Mai. "We do, however, need to sever the link between Chisato-san and Maria Carmen. Can I leave that to you?" he asked the brunette.

Mai understood immediately and nodded. "Of course. I'll talk to her tomorrow, when she's more lucid."

"Good," Naru said, nodding approvingly at her response. "For now, let's follow Alejandro-san's example and try to get some semblance of sleep. We'll meet back here, say, at noon?"

Takigawa grimaced. "Let's make it around one."

"One sounds good," Yasuhara said. "Taniyama-san and I should be back from our interviews by then."

Mai grimaced, but closed her eyes. She wasn't looking forward to tomorrow—well, later today.

Naru looked annoyed and opened his mouth to protest when John suddenly yawned. "I agree with Takigawa-san," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I think we all do," Lin said. "Let's make it one. Nine hours will be good for us and you need the sleep, too."

…

A penetrating whistle resounded throughout the master bedroom. Scrunching his eyes, Hernando blinked awake when he heard the keening sound again. Taking a few seconds to orient himself, Hernando stared at the dark ceiling. Outside the wind buffeted and raged; far off, thunder rumbled a warning.

_Hmm…_ he mused, as lightning flashed in jagged steaks across the sky and lit up the interior of the master bedroom briefly, _it's going to get nasty. A monsoon? No, way too earlier for that. It's April, not July. Just a bad thunderstorm then.  
_

The wind howled and raged against the heavy glass of the windows and to his left, he heard a low groan and saw a pillow rise in his peripheral vision. He grinned when he felt his wife shift. Yawning, he rolled over and draped an arm around his wife's supple waist and closed his eyes again. They snapped open a second later. _What was that?_ he wondered, listening intently.

The wind whistled again, trying to get in through the window and he breathed a sigh of relief. The wind—of course it was just the wind. Satisfied, he closed his eyes again. His eyes flew open once again and he frowned; this time, he was certain he hadn't imagined it. Sitting up slowly, he scanned the dense, oppressing darkness of the room, wondering when the atmosphere had gotten so heavy. He listened intently and frowned when he heard it again.

_Stay calm,_ he lectured himself when his heart began to palpitate and his breath started to hitch.

Squelch, squish, squelch, squish. _Hijos… mis…hijos…_ the darkness seemed to whisper.

Hernando frowned. He actually hadn't heard Spanish in quite a long time. Not since… he dismissed the thought—or tried to. It finished out without his permission—not since Carmen died.

Squelch, squish, squelch, squish. _Hernando…_

He flinched violently and quivered; he began to grope for his nightstand where he kept his gun. Whoever had broken into his house was going to pay dearly.

_Squelch. _

A foul stench invaded the master bedroom. It smelled rotten—like something had died and was starting to decay. He clapped a hand over his nose and mouth and tried to breathe in shallowly. Much as he tried to tell himself, he knew it wasn't coming from the kitchen. Such a stench could never have invaded the upstairs as heavily as it did. He peered over to the doorway, wondering why the area seemed so opaque.

Lightning flashed again, blinding him momentarily, and for just an instant, he thought he saw something standing at the threshold of his doorway. Then, the apparition was gone with the disappearance of the lightning. What didn't leave was the decayed smell that had first invaded. It smelled even closer, now. He shook his head. _Bah! It's just my imagination,_ he thought, chastising himself for being a gullible fool. _It's nighttime and I'm just imagining things. _

Settling down on the mattress, he shifted again and put his arms around Mercedes and closed his eyes, resolving to ignore the foul odor in favor of sleep. It would be gone in the morning. Maybe it was a skunk. Logic however, dictated to him that it couldn't be a skunk, especially in such weather like the storm outside. Pulling his wife closer, he rested his head at the junction of her shoulder and neck. He winced when his jaw made contact with her shoulder bone. Hernando frowned. He didn't recall that she'd lost so much weight. He'd have to talk to her about that when they got up in the morning; she was fine as she was. He felt her bony hand cover his and smiled despite his worry. Snuggling closer, he tried to will his mind to settle down and let him sleep. Water began to seep into the mattress and soak his sleeping shirt.

His eyes fluttered open again and another frown etched itself onto his face. His shirt and the linens were all wet. _What the hell is going on_, he wondered. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling, wondering if they had a leak again. Growling under his breath, Hernando sat up… or tried to. His wife held him fast with a ferocious strength that surprised him.

"Honey," he whispered. "Let go. I think our ceiling is leaking again. Honey," he murmured again, trying to rouse her.

She shifted a bit. "Hernando?" Her voice came out a strange, rasping whisper.

"Yes. Let go, please."

"Hernando…"

"What?" he asked, grasping her thin fingers and trying to loosen her hold upon him.

"Donde estan mis hijos?"

He froze, his eyes widening in shock and horror. His wife had just spoken to him in Spanish. Despite the fact that Mercedes was Hispanic, she didn't speak a word of Spanish. She'd grown up speaking English and had no desire to learn another language. When she'd married Hernando, she'd been surprised to learn that he spoke Japanese fluently and was passably fluent in Spanish. "What?" he growled, his voice harsh. "Where did you learn Spanish, Mercedes?"

"Donde estan mis hijos?"

"Mercedes," he said, exasperated, "we don't have children. If this is your idea of a joke, I don't find it amusing."

Slowly, he watched her turn to him. Hernando felt his insides twist in horror at the gruesome sight that lay next to him. It was something out of a nightmare, all slimy and wet with blue-gray skin that was missing from different parts of the face where it had been eaten away; the nose was missing, instead he saw bone. The skeletal fingers that held his hand were stained and dripping with blood. But the eyes were the worst. Dull, gold-brown, and downright frightening, they dripped tears of blood down the rotting face that contained them. He recognized those exotic, whiskey-gold eyes.

"Carmen!" he whispered.

He saw those eyes light up with an insane, determined glint and was suddenly more afraid than he'd ever been of anything in his entire life. He scrambled to get away, but the creature jerked him forward. Hernando gagged at the foul smell of its breath. "Hernando, donde estan mis hijos? Que hiciste con mis hijos?"

He blinked a few times before answering in rusty Spanish, "Sus padres tienen nuestros hijos, Carmen," he whispered, watching his breath spin itself into white wisps.

"Mentiroso! Me traicionastes! Me quitastes mis hijos! Donde estan mis hijos?" Her cadaverous fingers sunk into the muscles and tissues of his arm. Pain flared up his arm and blood began to seep onto the linens, adding to the water. Her other hand reached for his face. He grabbed the skeletal wrist in an effort to not let those bony fingers touch his face—not that it did much good. He didn't have the strength to match this thing. It spoke again. "Donde estan mis hijos, Hernando? Que hiciste con mis hijos?" The fingers resting on his face began to sink in, blood started to gush out around the bones imbedded in flesh…

With a hoarse cry that was a weak echo of the blood-curdling cries from his dream, Hernando shot up in the bed, breathing heavily with sweat dripping off him steadily. When the mattress shifted next to him, he stiffened and turned slowly, steeling himself to find Carmen's hideous corpse lying recumbent next to him. When he saw long, thick curls spread across the sheets, he breathed a sigh of relief.

_What a nightmare,_ he thought, lifting his shirt and wiping his face on the bottom of it. Slipping out of bed, he left the bedroom and padded down the hallway to his office. He fumbled a bit for the lamp and cursed when he stubbed his toe on what felt like the chair next to the door. Finally, he found the switch and flicked it on and momentarily shielded his eyes from the weak light that suddenly flooded the room. Outside, he heard the wind howl and he drew aside the curtain. Rain lashed against the glass pane erratically and trees danced about frantically. He smiled at the irony. The one part of his dream that hadn't been a creation of his mind was the storm outside. Dropping the thick curtain, Hernando turned to his desk and opened his laptop, pressing the 'on' button. Sleep was out of the question. Maybe he could get some work done instead. He gave up on that particular idea after half an hour. He couldn't concentrate.

Instead, he opened a drawer and reached into the very back, drawing out a single photograph. It was a picture of himself, Carmen, Alejandro, and Rosalie. He studied it, tilting his head to the side. A soft smile curved his lips as he gazed at it, losing himself in the past. For an impromptu picture, it was a very good one. He and Carmen stood next to each other; their son stood in front of his mother and she had her hands on his shoulders, while Rosalie stood in front of him in her yellow sundress, holding his hand and smiling at the camera gaily—her love for life and her family shining through and etching itself into the photo. They were all smiling—those were happier times. Carmen's smile was soft and filled with love as she gazed at the camera and his smile was silly because his son just stared at the camera sullenly. He hadn't wanted to be in the photograph at all. His mother, however, had forced him. His silly expression had been in hopes that his son would laugh. But it was not to be.

They'd been at a neighborhood picnic, if memory served him correctly. One of the attendees had asked if they could take a picture of the four of them. Hernando had instantly given permission and informed Carmen, who'd gone off to collect the children, promising them that they could return to playing with the other children as soon as the picture had been taken. Alejandro had been none-too-interested and did his best to spread his obnoxiousness to his sister. Rosalie had ignored him and smiled at the camera happily.

_Where did it all go wrong, then,_ he wondered, continuing to gaze at the photo. Carmen was gorgeous—skin as pale as Snow White's and unblemished; her hair just as black, her lips were full, lush, and a pale petal pink. Her eyes were an exotic, dark amber that were almond-shaped and framed by dark, thick lashes. Carmen was taller than Mercedes and statuesque, but wasn't without lovely curvature. _When did we fall out of touch? When did we stop making love? Was it after Rosalie was born, or before? When we first got married, we couldn't get enough of each other. And then somewhere along the way, we just…stopped and we grew apart. How?_ Hernando wondered. _How did that happen?_

"_'But you don't love me anymore, Carmen,'" he said, his voice matter-of-fact. He knew it was true._

_"'And I wonder if you ever loved me.'" Her voice was musing and thick with tears._

"Of course I loved you," he growled at the picture. "I love you still. Not that that would bring you any comfort. Where did we go wrong, Carmen?"

The phone rang, startling Hernando from his reverie and causing him to bang his knee on the side of the desk. Cursing, he picked himself up and went over to the phone, wanting to answer it before the ringing woke his wife. Whoever it was, he decided, needed to have a very good reason for calling so early in the morning.

"Hello, Takamoto residence," he answered, trying to stifle a yawn and failing miserably. When he heard the voice on the other end of the phone, his eyes went wide and the fatigue disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. "Alejandro? Why are you calling so early… yes, early! It's one in the morning here! What are you thinking? It's ten in the morning over there? Over where? Aren't you in Chandler? You're in Japan?" He couldn't stop the surprise from coloring his voice. "What are you doing there—oh, I see." He fell silent, listening to his son as he spoke. He didn't stay quiet for long. "You did _what_?" he asked, his voice flinty. Alejandro's voice was just as cold as he repeated what he said.

"You're mad," Hernando said. "Stark, raving mad. And I'm not doing it. I can't just drop everything and—what do you mean I have to? Young man, explain yourself this instant!" he commanded, lifting the curtain and peering into the tenebrous shadows that seemed to crowd around the window. Closing his eyes and sighing, Hernando dropped the curtain, missing the macabre, lurid reflection in the glass.

…

"I need you to come to Japan. I've already purchased plane tickets for you and your wife, if you feel like bringing her. 'Why' you ask? Because you're the only one right now with the answers we seek. I'd ask Grandma and Grandpa, but they're dead. You're the only other person who knows the story. I would start packing, were I you."

"What is this all about?" came the aggrieved question.

"It's time to air out the dirty laundry and clean it, Father."

That said, Alejandro hung up the phone on his father's enraged spluttering and exhaled a stupendous yawn. He gave a wry smile, thinking that this was some vacation he was having. His company was extremely happy he was using some of his vacation time. But what a vacation it was turning out to be, he recalled, making his way to the kitchen, where savory smells were coming from. Lost in thought, he nearly bumped into Mai who was on her way out with tea and a bowl of soup.

"Sorry," he apologized, shifting out of the way quickly. "What smells so good?"

The brunette laughed. "You're better off asking Ayako. She's the one who made it. If you're hungry, go eat." She slipped past him and began to walk towards the stairs.

"Where's everyone else?"  
Mai paused and turned to look at him. "They're still sleeping. Well, except for Lin. Don't wake them."

"What are you doing up?" he asked, noting how tired she looked.

Mai made a face. "I have lunch today with McLaughlin-san, unfortunately, so I don't have the luxury of actually getting to sleep in."

"Ah."

"I've already eaten, so go eat while it's hot."

"If everyone else is asleep then where are you headed?"

"I'm going to sever the connection between your wife and the Wailing Woman."

His gave her a wan smile. "I see. Good luck."

"Thank you." Mai resumed her trek upstairs.

…

Chisato's dreams were a frightful, vivid retelling of events that had transpired not ten hours ago. That thing that had been wailing outside their house had gotten in. Worse, she didn't quite know how. Her eyes scrunched up as she remembered that waterlogged _creature_ stepping out of her bathroom door. The need and thought of getting her children away had immediately entered her mind. And that had been the last rational thought that she'd had. The moment that thing that her husband identified as mother had looked at her, a strange lethargy had come over her. It felt as if the second their eyes made contact, she, Chisato had been shoved to the wayside and something else had taken over.

What scared her was how easily it had happened. And once she'd been overwhelmed, that new consciousness had demanded that her children be returned to her. They'd been searching for them for so very long. She'd tried to resist, but the image of Lin-san leaning down and kissing Mai… except it hadn't been Mai that Lin kissed, it had been her daughter, Ofelia, all grown up and pretty and she looked startlingly _like_ Mai. The anger was overwhelming. And then icing on the cake had been her husband, but not her husband, walking away with her children. _Her_ children. How dare he take her children from her! Bad children were punished.

What truly terrified her to remember was that she'd held her children in place as that thing had advanced towards them with the intent to drown them. Chisato could easily recall the water undulating around the foul specter that had invaded her house. She vaguely remembered hearing her husband call to her, to the children; she could just recall hearing words that she knew and had always known, but they were unintelligible to her. She couldn't make sense of them. After that, all was dark. When she woke up next, a terrified scream echoed throughout the room and a pair of strong arms was holding her down. When she felt water being splashed on her, her terror had intensified.

_When did I calm down,_ she wondered, opening her eyes and looking around blearily. _Seems like I calmed down when someone said something in Latin. I just can't remember!_ She looked around, noting with relief that she was in her bedroom, in the bed that she shared with her husband. He wasn't there and she felt sorely disappointed. She very much wanted him to hold her and assure her that everything was all right. It wouldn't hurt to hear that everything that had happened wasn't real. Chisato knew that wasn't true, but a little white lie never did a lot of damage, right? When she shifted, Ginger raised her head and looked at her curiously.

"Hi, girl," she rasped. Her throat felt like ten miles of bad road and her head ached terribly.

The dog whined in response and then looked over at the door. It was then that Chisato realized she wasn't alone in the room. She turned her head sharply and paid for it when pain lanced through her temples. She moaned and shut her eyes.

"Taniyama-san," she whispered.

"I thought you were going to call me Mai," she responded, going over to the curtains and closing them.

When shadows flooded the room, Chisato let out a sigh of relief. It didn't hurt as much when the sun couldn't hit her eyes. "What are doing here?" she asked.

"Stalling for time until I have to meet that creepy man for lunch."

"He's not picking you up here, is he?"

"I would never give such information to someone like him," Mai assured the woman. "It's bad manners, professionally speaking."

"You're right."

"Yes. Let me help you sit up," Mai said, assisting the woman into a sitting position. She put a pillow behind her. "I brought tea and soup. The tea has honey in it and should help your throat, which feels awful, I bet. The soup will help you regain your strength and hopefully provide you with enough food for you to take your medicine."

"What happened?" Chisato asked, taking the tea.

Mai grimaced. "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked, sitting down again.

"Yes. I don't…" she winced. "I don't recall things very clearly right now," Chisato said.

"Why don't you tell me what you remember?" Mai said. "And while you do, I'm going to record this."

"Whatever for?"

Mai smiled briefly. "Our records."

"Where should I start?" Chisato wondered out loud.

"Oh, the beginning sounds like a good place," Mai commented, her tone flippant.

"The beginning. That thing came out of the bathroom—"

"That's not the beginning, Chisato-san," Mai said, cutting her off.

"Eh?" she asked, sputtering on the tea she'd taken a sip of.

"The beginning, Chisato-san. When you told your husband about Lin and I. He mentioned that you two had discussed it."

"That was a private conversation, young lady," she admonished.

Mai shrugged. "Then you talk to your husband about that. However, if it affected you that badly, then that is where the beginning is. I may not look like much, but I'm smarter than people give me credit for and I am an investigator at SPR. So now that we know where the beginning is, please start there, back to that conversation you had with your husband about Lin and I, and the relationship we're in."

Chisato blew out a breath. Nothing for it, she supposed. If her husband had mentioned that conversation to them then there wasn't much point in trying to keep it private. "I saw him kiss you while you were on the phone. I don't know whom you were talking with, but I saw him interrupt your conversation—or more like end it. Seeing him kiss you like that bothered me for some reason, I don't know why."

Mai nodded. "Go on."

"It… weighed on my mind for the rest of the morning until my husband got home. It was then that I pulled him into this very room to talk to him about it. I voiced my concerns that he was taking advantage of you. He said 'so?' and I exploded. I wanted him to say something to Lin-san, but he refused, stating that I wasn't your mother and that it wasn't any of our business." Her brow crinkled and she stared into the honey-sweetened tea. "When Alejo said that to me, something…" She trailed off, looking for the right words.

"Something?" Mai prompted.

"Something…let go… is the best I can describe it as," Chisato said, looking at the wall across from her. It needed pictures, she decided; it was blank and bare, despite the calming shade of light blue that adorned the walls. She shook her head, sucking in a sharp breath at the motion that left her feeling nauseous. "I became confused; I couldn't remember what we had been discussing. All I remember is agreeing with him about something. Then, Mako and Ofi came home and I completely forgot all about the conversation we were having." She looked at Mai. "It was almost like the conversation never happened."

Mai nodded and watched with amusement as Ginger sidled closer while still on her belly until she was within touching distance of her mistress. Chuckling lightly, Chisato reached out and stroked the dog's muzzle, receiving a lick in return.

"But the thought came back during dinner. In fact, it was almost overwhelming. I and my family were sharing a table with someone like Lin-san who was taking advantage of such a nice, young lady."

"We had noticed that you were glaring at him all through dinner," Mai commented.

"Did I make him uncomfortable?" Chisato asked, scratching Ginger behind the ear. The dog leaned in with a look of absolute rapture.

"You might have. Over all, however, I think you confused him and made him very concerned that he'd offended you."

"He asked me that very question when I told him that he'd have to wait for Ofi and Mako to finish their homework before telling them that ghost story they're so fond of. He asked if he'd offended me some how. I told him not be ridiculous. I was cross from all the cleaning I'd done earlier." She took another sip of tea. "Of course, that was just a lie." A small smile graced her features. "I'm fairly certain he saw right through me, too. He managed to wheedle out of me my concerns of him taking advantage of you. He told me practically the same thing as Alejo, that it wasn't my business. You two were in a relationship and that it was none of my business. The look he gave me snapped me right back to my senses and I was… confused again. But again, the minute he left…"

"Your inexplicable anger returned in force?" Mai asked quietly.

"Yes," Chisato said, nodding. "I was convinced that he was lying to me. Then that _thing_ appeared."

"Tell me about what happened to you when you made eye contact with the Wailing Woman," Mai said, taking the empty tea mug and handing her the still-hot bowl of soup.

"It's time to eat," Chisato intoned woodenly, taking a tentative sip of the broth, but not tasting it. It smelled delicious, but the taste in her mouth was sour as she recounted her story. "My first instinct was that I needed to get my children away from that creature. Then my husband stepped forward and called it mother. She and I made eye contact. _I_ was shoved to the wayside and something else took over. Things… twisted and warped in my mind. Lin-san leaned down to kiss you… but no, that was my daughter he was kissing, and quite arrogantly, too. And I thought, how dare he take advantage of my child! I should mention that in this…hallucination shall we call it, my daughter just happened to look exactly like you, Mai.

"And then I saw my husband—but not my husband, leaving with my children. I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and taking another sip of the broth. "I can't really express the latter half very well. The same way that my daughter looked startlingly like you, is the same way that man looked like my husband, but I knew it wasn't him. But whoever he was, he was leaving with my children. And that I couldn't abide by. For some reason, however, my anger was to my children as well."

"Why?" Mai asked, keeping her voice low and even so as not to break Chisato's reverie.

"Because they were leaving. Because they chose their father over _me_, their mother who had birthed them. And then I decided that bad children needed to be taught a lesson."

Mai shivered. She recalled seeing a similar message many years ago, during the Morishita case. _Bad person will be punished!_ She focused on Chisato again as she started to speak.

"I… I held them in place while that… that… _**thing**_ advanced, with its hands outstretched!"

Mai grabbed the bowl of soup before it could go every which where. "And then what?" she asked.

"I recall hearing my husband and an unknown voice chanting something… then everything went dark. Oh, thank you," Chisato said, taking the bowl of soup back, with a grateful smile.

Mai nodded. "Your husband noticed the Llorona advancing and wanted you to get away, but you were already enraptured. Matsuzaki-san used the Suichi-Baki to bind the ghost while Lin used the Nine Words to get the creature away from you. The children got away on their own and you fainted. Alejandro-san brought you here and John said prayers over you. Alejandro-san also told us that he forced you to take a sleeping pill."

"Ah." Chisato looked down at her lap. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. We asked you here to investigate a wailing ghost, not to put up with an apparently possessed mother. I'm sorry to have been such a burden to your investigation."

"It's not done just yet," Mai said and Chisato felt her eyes widen at the girl's cryptic comment.

"Of course, your investigation is still continuing," she murmured.

"Yes… but you're not out of the woods yet, either. There was a reason I came instead of Chiaki or Naru. Chisato-san, please look at me."

Reluctantly, Chisato raised her head and looked Mai in the eyes. The investigator's brown orbs seemed to pierce her soul and see beyond it. _Kenkei,_ Chisato thought, unable to look away. The ability to see and perceive what others couldn't. She'd heard of it. Long ago from her grandmother.

"Lin and I are in a relationship. He does make me very happy and I make him happy. And even if that weren't precisely the case, it still wouldn't be your business. You're not my mother. And I most certainly _am not_ your child. I do not need you as a mother, either."

For the third time, Chisato felt something shatter. The bowl dropped listlessly from her hands as she stared at Mai who looked back, the truth of every word that she'd said, blazing brutally in her eyes as she held Chisato's gaze. Cold crept over Chisato, into her; it invaded her mouth, her throat, her lungs and seemed to close in a strangle hold on her. Her breath came out in short, gasping pants. Chisato could just barely make out Ginger's low-throated growls.

Then the whispering started and grew in crescendo.

_Lies, all lies! That is my child! In a relationship with a bad man! He'll take her away! Kill them! Drown them both! Children… my children, my child!_

Squeezing her eyes shut, Chisato reached for her head and pressed her palms to her ears in an attempt to ward off the desperate, invasive words that bombarded her mind. She screamed, a high, keening sound of a person whose mind was being tortured.

"Stop it!" she screeched. "Stop it! She's not my daughter! She's not _your_ daughter! Get out of my mind! Get out of my house! Leave me alone! You're not welcome here! Get out, get out!"

The wailing dwindled to a whisper and the whispering stopped just as her husband burst into the room, a frantic look upon his face. The cold receded the moment his arms encircled her and Chistao felt something coalesce inside of her and slink away. The icy sensation trickled from her body, leaving faint kisses of its presence as it did. Chisato shivered and clutched at her husband, sobbing softly.

"She's gone," Mai said quietly, her eyes focused on something beyond the couple. She looked at Chisato and smiled softly. "Good work, Chisato-san. You completely severed the link she'd forged between the two of you. How do you feel?"

Sniffling, Chisato wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the brunette ghost hunter. "I feel… better. Not so weighed down. My emotions are my own again. I… that was horrible, Taniyama-san!"

"Mai," she said. "I know. But short of Ayako or Bou-san performing an exorcism, there wasn't much in the way of choices. The easiest way was for you to get rid of her yourself."

Lin poked his head into the room. Chisato expected a haze of hatred to settle over her vision upon seeing the Chinese man. Instead, she felt faintly embarrassed at her actions—what a way for a hostess to behave! Her Grandmother was probably turning in her grave right now! She thought about Mai being in a relationship with this man and got nothing for her troubles. Not even one bad thought. She realized that she truly didn't care.

"Is everything all right?" Lin asked, surveying the three people and the room in general.

Mai turned to him and smiled. "Yep. Everything's fine." She turned back to Chisato with the same smile. "Ne?"

"Yes," the woman said, nodding. "Everything's just fine. A little bit more rest and I'll be good as new. Thank you, Mai-chan."

"You're welcome." She turned to leave, raised her arms above her head, and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop and crack as her bones slid back into alignment with the rest of her body. She walked past Lin, still stretching. Lin watched her go, peeking at his watch and frowning. She would have to leave soon.

"Mai," he called.

"Hmm?" she murmured, turning back slightly.

"Wait for me at the front door."

She nodded and continued down the hallway.

"Please pardon the intrusion," Lin said, stepping into the room and making his way over to the couple. "Here," he said, holding out a sheet of rice paper to Chisato.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting the charm and looking at the symbols inscribed on it curiously. They were like nothing she'd ever seen before.

"A ward," Lin said. "It will keep the Llorona away from you and protect you against further invasions. Please keep it with you at all times."

Chisato nodded and shoved it into the front pocket of her pajamas.

"Are things all right between us?" he asked softly.

"My, what _are_ you talking about? Things were never bad between us in the first place and frankly, I don't need _more_ children. I have enough to do with my own four."

"Four what?" her husband asked.

"Four children."

"Four children," Alejandro repeated doubtfully.

"Makoto and Ofelia, Ginger, and you," she replied archly, and smiled when her husband sputtered a protest.

Lin allowed a brief smirk. "Get some rest, Chisato-san. Possession takes a lot out of a person. Matsuzaki-san and Hara-san said they would take over doing your chores until you're back on your feet."

"Oh, that's not necessary," she protested. "This child here can do the household chores," she said, pointing to her husband. Lin looked unconvinced, but said nothing. "But if they don't mind cooking, perhaps? It's not Alejandro's strong suit," she finished, looking at her husband lovingly.

"Oh, so now I'm your husband?"

Chisato just smiled.

_Ah, marital bliss,_ Lin thought. "I'm sure they won't mind at all. I'll take my leave then and tell Naru that you're doing fine."

"Thank you, Lin-san. But… could I ask?"

"Ask what, Chisato-san?"

"How did the two of you—that is, how did your relationship with Mai begin?"

Lin regarded her seriously. "It began with a spell," he said mysteriously.

"Pardon?"

Lin gave a bland smile and offered them nothing more. "Excuse me," he said, turning and leaving the room.

"What was that about?" she asked her husband.

He shrugged. "No idea. Stop your meddling, though. That's what got you into this mess in the first place," he said severely. Tenderly, he pushed her back down to the pillows and settled down next to her. "I called my Father," he told her, wrapping her back in his arms.

"You did?" she asked, shocked. That must have cost her husband a lot of pride. He hadn't even invited his Father to their wedding.

He nodded. "I did. For the first time in nearly twenty years, I contacted him."

"How'd that go?" she queried, snuggling closer.

"I think it went rather well," Alejandro said cheerfully.

Chisato pulled back a bit and looked at him doubtfully. "What did you do?" she asked. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"I purchased tickets for him and his wife to come to Japan."

Chisato groaned. She had a feeling this was going to end badly. "Why?"

"Because he's the only one who knows what happened to my mother. Shibuya-san said that it's very strange that my mother turned into a Wailing Woman. Rosalie and I are still alive. She should simply have become a ghost bearing a grudge against my Father, but instead, she's a full out boogey. I don't know what happened to her the night that she died—my memories are… vague at best. Grandmother and Grandfather wouldn't talk about it at all, even after I'd grown up. The only other person who ever knew was my Father. They told him just before they served him with the legal papers that they were taking custody of Rosa and I. So I decided in a very brief meeting with Shibuya-san and his associates that it was time to air the dirty laundry. When I got up this morning at nine, I made the reservations. Then I called my Father and told him to pack."

Chisato sighed and pulled her husband close, cradling his head against her chest. "That must have been hard," was all she said.

"It was."

"What about Rosalie?"

"My sister?"

"Yes. My sister-in-law," she affirmed.

"What about her?"

"Aren't you going to call her?"

"I… hadn't planned on it."

"No? Why ever not?"

Alejandro gazed at the stripe pattern on of his wife's pajamas. "Because I don't want to trouble her."

"Funny," she said. "I would think that she'd like to know what happened to her Mother as well."

"She's in Israel. She's living on a Kibbutz. I don't think she can leave right now."

"Honey, I don't think that's up to you to decide."

Alejandro stayed silent. Chisato sighed and kissed the top of his head. "Sometimes, you really take on too much," she told him.

"I know. Go to sleep," he said, suddenly. "I'll be right here."

"Okay," she said drowsily, allowing sleep to carry her off.

…

Lin found Mai waiting in the hall as he had asked. Going over to her, he leaned down and peered into her eyes. She looked exhausted. The skin below her eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep.

"You should cancel," he said, rubbing her arms. His words conveyed that he wasn't blind to her state.

She gave him a wan smile. Truth be told, she felt like she was going to fall flat on her face at any given moment; a vicious headache lurked just behind her eyes, waiting to blossom and grow. Ayako had taken one look at her and handed her a cup of tea and some food without comment; the caffeine and little bit of food that that the priestess had forced on her were all that kept her upright. Canceling sounded lovely, but she knew that she couldn't. "If only I could. I am, however, going to go and put some makeup on. I'll bet I look hideous."

Lin let out a quiet snort of laughter. "Tired, yes; hideous, no." He turned serious. "Where have you decided to go?" he asked, knowing full well that Mai wouldn't allow McLaughlin to choose where they were going to dine.

"Gavin-san's," she replied.

Lin nodded. "Good choice." He didn't have to add that Gavin and his wife Yuka would keep an eye on the miscreant McLaughlin and make certain that he didn't do anything to Mai. "Call me if anything happens," he said, meaningfully.

Mai nodded. "Ah, please tell Yasuhara-san that I'll be right back."

Lin raised a brow. "Conniving young man," he said, leaning down and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her mouth; Mai wished she had the energy to return it with more enthusiasm. "Go on, I'll tell him when he comes."

Mai hurried off to try and cover her exhaustion, leaving Lin to pass on her message to the bespectacled investigator. When she returned to the hallway, Lin was gone and Yasuhara-san remained with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Taniyama-san, has it occurred to you how frightening your boyfriend can be?"

"Do I want to know?" Mai asked.

Osamu shook his head. "Don't misunderstand—he didn't threaten or anything of the sort. He just sort of chuckled at me."

Mai grinned. "Yasuhara-san, you can't possibly think you're fooling anyone, can you? There's no way you'd have made an eleven o'clock appointment with how late we all went to bed last night."

"That's true," he said cheerfully. "The cab is here, Taniyama-san. Where are we meeting McLaughlin-san?"

"His hotel," she answered. "We're meeting him in the lobby. New Otani Garden Tower, please," she told the cab driver.

…

Mai looked at her watch for the umpteenth time in the space of ten minutes. She'd heard that men could be persnickety about their appearances, but this was ridiculous. The concierge had given her the message that she was welcome to go on up to the gentleman's room and Mai had flatly refused. She'd told the concierge to send her apologies; she and Yasuhara-san would wait for him in the lobby. The brunette psychic wondered if he wasn't trying to make her come to him. If he was, he was sorely mistaken; Mai had no intention of letting that happen. Frowning, she went back to the concierge desk and waited for the man to get off the phone.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, when he turned his attention to her.

She smiled apologetically. The idiocy of his client was not the concierge's fault. "Could you possibly send up another message?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"Please let McLaughlin-san know that if he's not down in the hotel lobby to meet us within the next five minutes, my associate and I are leaving and to hell with him and the interviews; we can write our papers without him and we'll be more than happy to explain to the teacher just _why_ there is no interview in said papers."

_**That**__ worked,_ Mai observed cynically. McLaughlin entered the lobby of the hotel three minutes after the message had been sent, polished, spruced, and practically shining. Mai felt like buying a pair of sunglasses to ward herself from him. The dull throb at her temples began to spike viciously.

"Radiant, isn't he?" Yasuhara muttered.

"I wish I had sunglasses," Mai answered.

"Miss Taniyama!" he said, exuberantly. "How lovely you look today."

"Please," she said, in English. "You don't have to flatter me."

"It's not flattery at all—it's the truth. You do look beautiful."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Where's your translator?" she asked.

"He requested a few days off," came the blithe answer. Mai had a feeling that he'd been ordered to take the time, rather than requesting it.

"Yasuhara-san," he said turning to the bespectacled investigator. "It's a pleasure to see you, as well. I was most distressed when you never showed up this morning."

_What a liar,_ Osamu thought, giving him the insincere smile he reserved for when he masqueraded as Shibuya-san. "We had a very long and tiring evening last night and I'm afraid neither of us got to bed until extremely early this morning. Last we heard everyone else except Lin-san was still asleep—aside from Taniyama-san and I, of course."

McLaughlin turned to Mai. "Oh? Something exciting? Do tell," he said, putting an arm around the petite girl's shoulders and trying to draw her in the opposite direction.

Mai squirreled away from him. "McLaughlin-san, where are you going?"

"Belle Vue—that's where we're going to dine this afternoon. It's excellent—and the view is to die for; the restaurant is at the top of the Garden Tower. You don't mind Italian, do you?"

"I don't. But Yasuhara-san and I wanted to take you to a favorite restaurant of ours. Seeing as you're treating us, we don't want to be too burdensome."

"Nonsense!"

"The restaurant is expecting us, however. And it's not very far from here, either. Maybe four blocks away."

"You're not interested in seeing the view from the top of the hotel?" he asked, crestfallen.

Mai shrugged. "I live here," she said simply. "I see it every day. I can see it from anywhere, McLaughlin-san."

"Very well," the man said, sighing in disappointment. "If y'all insist."

"We do!" Mai and Yasuhara chorused at the same time.

"Then… 'lead on, McDuff!"

"'And damned be him who first cries, hold, enough!" Yasuhara finished cheerfully.

McLaughlin glowered at him as he followed the two out of the hotel.

…

"Here we are!" Mai said, opening the door to Gavin-san's restaurant. The scents hit her first; pizza, lasagna, vegetables, spices, marinara sauce, all combined to create a heavenly scent that never failed to draw people inside. Mai felt her stomach answer to all the scents and a genuine smile tugged at her lips as she walked into the restaurant. Its interior was homey. Booths lined the walls and tables that sat parties of four and six occupied the empty space created by the booths. There was an open kitchen, complete with a brick-oven that invited guests to watch as the food was being prepared. A soda machine sat discreetly in one corner and guests were informed by the waiters and waitresses serving them that they should help themselves to whatever they wanted to drink. Mai knew that the restaurant also served alcoholic beverages to guests after a certain time and so long as the guests were of the right age. Despite how early it was (only quarter-to-noon) the restaurant was already busy.

In the kitchen, Mai could see both Gavin and his lovely wife Yuka as they worked in tandem with their other staff members. He really did everything, Mai reflected. He cooked, no doubt he bussed and cleaned the tables; he delivered… his energy amazed the brunette investigator. The Scotsman looked up from what he was working on when he heard the door chime and a wide grin split his handsome face. Stopping what he was doing, he gave his hands a quick wash and left the kitchen, drying them on his apron as he went. Another one of his cooks immediately went over to the work he'd left and took over.

"Mai-chan!" he cried, approaching the young lady. Bending, he enfolded the petite girl in his arms and hugged her tightly. "Yuu-chan!" he called. "Come say hello to Mai-chan!"

Yuka also stopped what she was doing and washed her hands before joining her husband. Yuka Minageshi Macalister was a beautiful woman. Every time Mai saw her, she felt a tad envious of her. Tall and lithe, she had a willowy figure that was nicely proportioned. She smiled radiantly at Mai that told the girl something was up besides being glad to see her frequent customer. There was a sparkle in her dark eyes as she leaned down to hug Mai. Turning to Yasuhara, she welcomed the bespectacled boy back to their restaurant. Arm-in-arm, the couple turned and confronted their newest customer.

"Welcome!" Yuka said, in charmingly accented English.

They made such an odd pair, Mai observed. Yuka, beautiful with glossy, ebony hair that frequently escaped from everything except the messy bun it was often tied in. Gavin, tall, broad-shouldered and slim in the waist with shocking red hair, twinkling blue eyes, pale, freckled skin and a lilting accent to inform everyone where he hailed from. They made a beautiful couple, however.

"Ah… thank… you," McLaughlin said, weakly.

"Gavin Macalister," Gavin said, jovially. "This is my wife, Yuka. And who might you be?"

"Samuel McLaughlin," came the hesitant answer.

"Scot or Irish?"

"Irish."

"Ah. And where're you from now, my friend?"

"Georgia."

"Ah. Lovely state. Bit humid, I thought, lovely all the same."

"You've been there, I take it?" McLaughlin asked politely.

"A long time ago. But that's neither here nor there. Come," Gavin said imperiously, leading them over to a booth. After seating them, he returned with glasses for drinks and directed them to the soda machine, telling them to help themselves.

"You know them," Samuel commented, looking at Mai from across the table where she sat next to Yasuhara.

Mai nodded. "That I do," she responded.

"How?"

"We have a mutual friend," Gavin answered for her, taking a seat next to McLaughlin. "How's Houshou-kun doing?"

"He's fine. Last I saw, he was still sleeping."

"At noon?" Gavin asked, frowning.

"Mmm," she agreed. "We had a very exciting and late night last night," she said dryly.

Gavin peered into Mai's eyes, not liking the exhaustion that he saw lingering there. There was something else, too. Something that he couldn't place. It was almost like there was another presence inside her. "Everything all right?" he asked.

She smiled sadly. "I'd love to discuss it with you, but you know Naru's policy."

The Scotsman nodded. "True enough, lass. True enough. Anyhow, you give Houshou-kun my regards, you hear? And tell the idiot to call me later tonight."

"You know I would without you saying so."

"You're a good lass. Well kids, what do you want to eat?"

Yasuhara grinned. "What do you suggest?"

"That's me boy. A man after me own heart," Gavin commented, his burr making the two college students grin.

Samuel frowned. This day had certainly elluded him. How it had gotten so far away from him in such a short amount of time, he would never know. His carefully constructed plans had gone to waste the second he'd stepped foot into the hotel lobby. Oh, certainly Mai had show up on time, as he knew she would, but that boy Yasuhara had apparently skipped his appointment time and showed up with Mai. Samuel had planned the day out to woo Mai, right down to the last detail. Lunch at Belle Vue was to be the first step. The Italian Restaurant atop the hotel and overlooking the city had worked on Satori Hisae, who'd blabbed all she knew about the brunette investigator over a lovely meal, copious amounts of wine, and a satisfying evening in bed.

Samuel had planned much the same for Mai. Good food, good wine (he insisted on the wine, especially), a song and dance about the shoes, and perhaps, if he was suave enough, she would accompany him back to the room she'd been requested to meet him in. He'd dreamed of the day when her interview was to take place. Literally. He'd wondered if her body was as flexible in reality as it was in his dreams, because some of those positions that he'd dreamed of her in, made his blood boil whenever he thought of them. Instead, she had flat-out refused to meet him in his room, sending the message that she'd rather meet him in the lobby. She'd refused his restaurant of choice, instead, bringing him to a restaurant where she was well-known and well-loved. And if she was, then there was no doubt in the man's mind that her friends would be keeping a sharp on eye on him.

He felt a cold fury swell up in his chest and trail its icy fingers into his blood. How dare she? How dare this mere slip of a girl thwart _him_? Didn't she realize that he her life already belonged to him by association?

_No, no,_ Samuel thought, quelling his mounting fury. _I'll bet it was that boyfriend of hers, _he thought with a sneer. _If that's the case, and I'm sure it is, then I need to apply the pressure to __**him**__. He in turn, will apply the pressure to __**her**__. A little research is in order, I think. In the meantime—I must also think of the future. Surely Mai will not last much longer with Annabelle hanging about. She's already exhausted and it can't just be from the case that she and her co-workers are investigating. Annabelle will need young ladies. She must continue in her efforts._

He watched Mai smile at something that Yasuhara said as he pointed to the menu. The girl shook her head and laughed at his pout. Whatever she said to him sounded like an admonition that lacked authority. She turned to Gavin for what Samuel thought was backup. The Southerner found himself regretting again that Mai was Annabelle's current victim. What, he wondered, was it about this small, Asian girl? He'd seen plenty of Annabelle's victims before. He'd never, ever, been physically or sexually attracted to any of them before. She was the first. A small stab of sorrow pierced his conscience. It was too bad that her future was so bleak. But, c'est la vie.

Gavin finally picked himself up and left, but not before he leveled a small, meaningful glare at the newest guest in his restaurant. Turning to the two college students, Samuel gave them a tentative grin. "I don't think he likes me very much," he said with a nervous laugh. "I wonder if it's because I'm Irish?"

_No,_ Yasuhara thought. _Gavin-san doesn't like you because he thinks you're up to something, and he's probably right!_

"Ah, well. Never mind, never mind. You," he said, becoming all business and nodding to Mai, "chose the dancing slippers." _Actually, they chose you._ "And you," he continued, looking at Yasuhara, "chose cooking utensils. Well, go ahead and ask me questions."

Nodding, Mai took a slim, black, tape recorder out of the shoulder bag that she'd brought with her. Samuel looked at it with interest, marveling at her cleverness. The other students had simply brought plain paper with them. It had been amusing to watch them translate his words back to their native Japanese and scribble them down. Some had tried to do that with English and had failed a third of the way through the interview, reverting back to their native language. Only two of them had actually kept up with him in English to date: Minako Aino (who'd confessed that she'd lived in England for a little while) and Ami Mizuno, who Samuel suspected was fluent in just about every language known to man.

"I'm going to record this, is that all right?" Mai asked, in English.

"Be my guest."

Nodding, Mai pressed down on the 'record' and 'play' buttons simultaneously and waited for a few seconds before speaking in slow, concise English. "Testing 1, 2, 3; testing 1, 2, 3." Hitting the 'stop' button, she rewound the tape and played it, making sure her test had worked. When she heard that it had, she rewound the tape again, and hit the same two buttons to start the routine all over again. "The date is April 18. The time is six after twelve in the afternoon," she said, glancing at her watch. "This is a recorded interview with Samuel McLaughlin for History 203. I'm Mai Taniyama, starting off. Mr. McLaughlin, please start by telling me about Annabelle."

…

Yawning, Mercedes walked into her husband's office. "Hernando?" she asked, softly.

"You're up," he said flatly. "That's good; I was about to wake you."

Something in his voice made Mercedes frown. It had to do with the phone call that had roused her from sleep. By the time she'd picked it up, her husband was already speaking to the person at the other end, and he hadn't sounded happy. She only knew that the caller had been her stepson. Sighing, she scooped her curls back from her brow. "What's happened?" she asked.

"I'm going to get the suitcases," he informed her, his voice hollow. "Pack fast—and make sure you bring enough to entertain yourself," he continued, unplugging his laptop and shoving it into its travel case, and checking to make sure the spare adapter and cord were there. "It's going to be a very long flight. What you can't pack, we can buy when we arrive."

"Wait just a minute, Hernando. Where are we going?"

He gave his wife an unreadable look. But his dark gray eyes were full of despair. "Japan. We're going to Japan."

Before she could ask, he trudged out of the office. Mercedes pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling as though the world was falling apart around her. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts—mostly questions. Japan—why Japan? And why now? Why did her husband look so grim when he told her? Who did he know that lived in Japan? Going over to his desk, she looked it over, trying to find something, anything that would give her the answers she desperately sought.

As usual though, there was nothing. Hernando's desk was clean and organized—to the point of being persnickety. The only thing marring the ordered layout was a single frame. Curiously, Mercedes picked it up and peered at the picture held by simple glass and metal. The four-by-six picture held four people—a family, two adults and two children. She instantly recognized her husband; he was about thirty years younger but still handsome. She didn't recognize the statuesque woman standing by his side, but she recognized the quick sweep of envy that went through her at the other woman's beauty and poise. That had to be Maria Carmen, her husband's first wife. Unlike herself, this woman had grown up in money; whereas she had grown up poor. She felt a sneer curve her lips—this woman had things handed to her on a platter; Mercedes had worked to make something of herself. It would be nearly forty-eight hours later until she realized how wrong she was and how right. Reluctantly, Mercedes tore her eyes away from the hypnotic, whiskey-gold eyes that laughed at the picture she held on to. She instantly recognized her stepchildren, feeling a pang of sorrow that she hadn't been there for their lives. She was happy with her marriage, but it pained her that she'd only seen her stepchildren three times in the years she'd been married. Rosalie looked like the older woman in the picture, right down to the button nose and bright brown-gold eyes. Both her stepchildren had their mother's eyes, she noticed, but Alejandro strongly favored his father. She continued to gaze at the picture for a bit longer; it was a melancholy picture, she decided, one that showed there had been better days.

Putting the picture back, she left the office thoughtfully, with more questions than answers. She sighed. It really was too early for all of this! Going back to her room, she began to make a mental list of what to take. Japan. It was country she'd never been to, before and sadly, it had been low on her travel destination list. She didn't know its climate, or its weather patterns. She assumed spring, but was it a hot season or a cool season? Did it depend on the city? Likely. She started to pull out clothes that she thought would be useful and laid them on the bed.

Confident that she had all the basic necessities covered, Mercedes went over to her husband's chest and began to remove what he had in suitable clothing. She increased her pace when the rain grew even harder. She was sure they'd be leaving soon. When her husband finally returned with the suitcases, he stared at the bed. His clothes were neatly folded and rolled, ready to be shoved into the suitcase. She was just finishing up her stuff when she looked up and shrugged.

"We're leaving soon, right?"

He nodded.

"Then, you put the clothes in the suitcase. I'm going to take a quick shower."

"All right."

"And Hernando?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not happy about this. You're not telling me something."

_I haven't told you a lot of things,_ he thought, hoping his face didn't betray his guilt. From the look on her face, he gathered that it did. She didn't say anything. She merely walked into the master bath and shut the door.

Hernando sighed, looking at the messy bed. His son's words came back to him, _'It's time to air the dirty laundry and clean it, Father.' _After all these years… his life was heading to hell in a hand basket—he could feel it in his very bones. And at the center of it was Carmen. "What do you want this time, Carmen?" he whispered.

…

Rosalie jerked awake and stared at the dark ceiling, waiting for her heart to stop racing and breathing to even out and return to normal. She sat up in bed slowly, pushing her sweaty bangs back from her forehead and continued her hand through her thick black hair, scratching absently at an itch. She lowered her hand to the lumpy mattress. What a nightmare. Tossing the covers off of her, Rosalie left the bed and prowled around the small, dark room, trying to make sense of what she'd dreamed. Her whiskey-gold eyes narrowed in thought as she tried to pull images from her dream back to her. Her mother… it had to do with her mother. She could recall that much. But her mother, God rest her soul, was dead.

A chill slid down Rosalie's spine as an awful thought came to her. Her soul could not rest.

She shook her head. Nonsense. Rosalie scorned ghost stories with a passion, despite the fact that she'd grown up on a good amount of them. Going over to her desk, she turned on the small desk light and blinked when muted light flickered to life, chasing away a miniscule amount of shadows. Yawning, she scrubbed her face and wiped the gritty sand away from her eyes. Rosalie tried to rid herself of the ridiculous notion that her mother's soul wasn't at rest. She stared at the lone poster decorating her wall broodingly.

_No, not that it isn't at rest—it can't rest. Why, though? Didn't my dream say such? Mom is still wandering this earth. She looked like she was looking for something, truth be told. But what could a ghost be looking for? Do ghosts look for things? _She tossed her hands in the air. _This is stupid! It was a nightmare! Stop trying to rationalize it, Rosalie Grace!_

But she couldn't. It stayed in her thoughts, twisting and turning, demanding that she figure it out. _Dammit, dammit. _Sighing, she thought about her dream. _Mother was alive…_ Rosalie winced. _I actually can't say that. She was…merta viviente a walking dead. No, that's not right. Merta viviente translates to 'undead' not walking dead. So she wasn't a zombie. _She rolled her eyes. _I sincerely can't believe I'm taking a __**dream**__ seriously. What's next? Focus. The sooner you get this out of your head, the sooner you can go back to sleep,_ she lectured herself._ She wasn't a zombie. Zombies don't search river banks. At least, I don't think they do._ They probably didn't, but something about the phrase 'river bank' and the word 'search' pulled at a memory. _Oh, it can't be! How stupid! What did I __**eat**__ before going to bed last night? A Llorona? Please! That's an Old Wives Tale, something to tell the kids in Mexico to make them behave! Abuelo and Abuela used to tell me and Alejo that story all the time! It's just a story, a fairy tale. _Unbidden, a rational thought entered her mind. Fairy tales served a purpose. True they were often-times sad and macabre, but they'd originally been used as a learning tool. It was possible…

She bit her lip. _All right—say that the story is true. La Llorona looks for her children. There were no kids in my dream! But the Wailing Woman is always on the lookout for her kids who she killed. Actually, no, she's after kids in general, because she usually can't find hers. She can't be after Alejandro and I, because we're grown up. _A horrible thought came to her. _Alejandro has children. He has two. Makoto and Ofelia. And just like the two of us, Mako's the eldest and Ofi's the youngest. For a Llorona, any child will do. _

Hurrying back to her desk, she snatched her cell phone and dialed his house number. She waited while the phone tried to decide whether or not to connect. "Come on, please, please," she muttered.

"Hi, this the Takamoto Residence. Sorry we can't get the phone. Leave a message or call back later."

"No! The one time I believe in a stupid dream and you're not there so I can tell you that your kids might be in danger from their own grandmother!" Rosalie started to pace again. "Even if I did go there, what the hell use could I be? I'm no exorcist."

But it would make her feel better to be there—family unity; it would comfort her greatly to just be with her niece and nephew, and she would love to see Chisato. And maybe, just maybe, she and her brother could talk some sense into their mother and convince her to move on. _I don't believe I'm about to go out on a limb like this._

Try as she might, however, she couldn't shake the feeling that was growing. She needed to be there with them. If to do nothing else but try to calm the kids and reassure them, she needed to be there. And if she couldn't get hold of Alejo before hand, then she would just show up.

Her decision made, she stripped off her nightgown and dressed hurriedly, throwing her hair back into a ponytail. Dragging a duffle bag out of her closet, she checked to make certain her passport was there. Confirming it was, she tossed in some clothes, reminding herself that she and Chisato were nearly the same size. She could borrow her clothes if push came to shove. Her wallet came next—she opened it, checking to make certain she had all her credit cards and cash. Check. Cell phone charger and laptop with accessories. Scant packing done, she tore a piece of paper from the legal pad on her desk. She scrunched her eyes shut, trying to think of the right phrases in Hebrew to explain what she was doing and so suddenly. She gave up after a few seconds—it wasn't working. She couldn't even cajole her brain to think in the language she was trying so desperately to learn. She settled for scribbling it in English, knowing the directors of the kibbutz spoke English.

_'I have to go. I'm sorry for such short notice, but it's an emergency. Family troubles. I'll call when I can—or you're welcome to call me.'_ Quickly, she notated her phone number, including the regional and area codes.

Satisfied, she tossed the pen back to her desk, grabbed her keys and cell phone, looked around one last time to be sure that she had everything she needed. Slipping her feet into sandals that were easily removed, she turned off the light and left her room, feeling inexplicably sad, as if she were leaving for good. She made a brief stop to the director's room and stuck the note under the door. If they got it, great. If not, she'd call to tell them what had happened.

Pulling her cell out, she called for a cab to take her to the Ben Gurion Airport.

**A/N: And that's a wrap! A few cliff-hangers, nothing major. We're about two-thirds of the way done with the La Llorona arc. Chapter five will conclude it and then we'll be dealing with Annabelle. So over all, the story's progressing rather nicely, I think.**

**Translations** **

"**Donde estan mis hijos?" **

**-Where are my children?**

"**Que hiciste con mis hijos?"**

**-What have you done with my children?**

"**Sus padres tienen nuestros hijos, Carmen,"**

**-Your parents have our children, Carmen.  
**

"**Mentiroso! Me traicionastes! Me quitastes mis hijos!"**

**-Liar! You betrayed me; you took my children from me!**

Don't forget: reviews are love and they make me write faster. See you all in chapter five!


	5. Lacrimosa

Chapter Five: Lacrimosa

**A/N: **Welcome to chapter five! I apologize that chapter four was delayed for so long. Original fiction, exams, and work have squirreled their ways to the forefront of my concentration.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Ghost Hunt_ or _Until Death Do Us Part._

Lacrimosa (lacrimōsus)—'weeping.' Latin.

"Tell me about Annabelle."

Annabelle. This girl was a lot more perceptive than he'd thought. Then again, he probably should have picked up on that back at the museum. She'd seen Annabelle's slippers in her dream. _Does that mean she's also spoken to Annabelle?_

To his knowledge, the deceased belle had never talked to any of her victims, save for extracting a promise of help. _Why did Annabelle choose this girl? The girls that Annabelle usually chooses are poor, miserable, little waifs that have no future. Why this girl who's in college with a job and future ahead of her? _His eyes narrowed at Mai. _Is Annabelle getting sick of being used? Ridiculous! Annabelle is dead! She has no say in her life any longer! This girl cannot help you, Annabelle. Nor can the next victim you choose!_ Before he could dismiss it, a nasty memory crept back into Samuel's mind. The day that Mai had been chosen as Annabelle's new victim, he'd met her boyfriend who'd mentioned that their jobs were in research. _That man never did specify what kind of research they did._

"Mr. McLaughlin?"

He snapped back realizing that he'd been silent for too long. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "Annabelle, you said?" He scrunched his brow thoughtfully, hoping that Mai's heart was pounding in anticipation for answers she desperately sought. Samuel would be utterly delighted if she looked crushed upon hearing his answer. "My two-year-old niece? I don't recall mentioning her to you. And you'll forgive me, but I don't think she has anything to do with your topic—unless you were interested in hearing about the time when she played dress-up with the very shoes you chose?"

He was sorely disappointed when Mai's expression remained neutral—remote even. As if she'd expected him to not tell her anything.

"Sounds like a charming story. Later, perhaps? Still, Annabelle is such a pretty name."

"I'll tell my sister you think so. I'm sure she'll be pleased."

And if this 'sister' and 'niece' of his did exist, then she likely wouldn't give a damn what some stranger on the other side of the world thought of the name she'd given her child. "Was she named after anyone?"

_Ho. She's good,_ Samuel thought. "I'm not entirely sure," he confessed, "although, and this is pure speculation on my part, my sister always did love the poem _Annabelle Lee_, by Edgar Allan Poe."

"All right. Does the name 'Baker's Field' ring any bells?"

_Another surprise,_ he thought, feeling a nasty bout of shock slither through him. He smiled at Mai. "A cemetery? Maybe for the victims of the Civil War? You're the researcher, aren't you? You tell me," he challenged.

Mai resisted the urge to growl at the man in frustration. She should have known it would be pointless to even try asking. "All right then, tell me about those shoes." _If you actually have anything to tell me!_

"You obviously know that they're dancing shoes meant to be worn only at parties. They were made from Kidd leather, which should tell you something about the family during those times."

"Kidd leather was expensive," Mai said, nodding. "Especially when the South found themselves on the losing side."

"They were made for the person who wore them last," Samuel said, hanging that piece of information out.

"Annabelle?" Mai asked, her voice saccharine.

_Humph. She's being quite chatty._ He smiled. "Mildred—my… great…" he began to tick the numbers off on his fingers, "great-great grandmother. She died in 1863—about a year before the Civil War ended. After that, no one ever wore the shoes again."

"Did she curse them?" Mai asked.

McLaughlin blinked. "That's certainly far out there," he commented.

"Not at all," Mai said. "There has to be a reason why they were never worn again. And the legend that they were cursed would be just the thing. Back during those years, people were still very superstitious—so if they learned that Mildred had cursed those shoes, they'd never get worn again, because no one wanted to tangle with a ghost."

"I suppose," he said doubtfully.

"How did your great-grandmother Mildred die?" she asked.

Samuel blinked, genuinely surprised. "I have no idea," he said. "Miss Taniyama, back in the eighteen hundreds, medical science wasn't very advanced. Nothing at all like today—back then, the common cold could very well kill whomever caught it."

"It can still do that," Mai pointed out.

"Touché," he said, nodding. "But here's another thing they didn't keep very good track of—written records."

Mai found that hard to believe. Wealthy families had the money to educate. Education meant learning to read and write, arithmetic and sciences, geography and languages. A wealthy family probably kept very good records, especially if they were involved in buying and trading, as much of the South was… at least until the Union Army blocked off the supply routes. She tried a different track. "How about a family Bible?"

"Names, birth dates, and death dates," he said, knowing that she'd never see the family Bible, anyhow. "Isn't this off topic, Miss Taniyama?"

"Yes, you're right. Hmm…" Mai fell silent for a second. "What about the flowers embroidered on the shoes?"

"The blue ones? Bluebells, I think. I do believe they're part of the Foxglove family."

Mai scrunched her brow in thought. Bluebells. _Have I heard of them from somewhere?_ Whether or not she had, she couldn't deny that they sounded almost sinister, for some reason. "Why thirteen of them when thirteen is an unlucky number in the West?"

"No idea on that one, I'm afraid."

Mai was sure he was telling the truth with that answer. "What was the last occasion those shoes were worn for? Or should I ask which party?"

Samuel hesitated. If he didn't answer this… he didn't want to think that the consequences would be good. Not knowing what type of research the company worked for did concern him greatly. Would she research into his family for the skeletons in his closet? He rather thought that if she could, she would. He decided to answer somewhat honestly. _Nothing wrong with mixing stories, after all. It's been two hundred years at the very least. If the stories get __**mixed up**__ then it's easily blamed on the fact that the stories are so old and human memory is faulty._ "You're not easily creeped out by anything, are you?"

"No, I'm not," she responded.

"Then… the last occasion they were worn for was indeed a dance. But not like the one you're thinking. It wasn't a grand party—though the slippers saw many of those before Mildred died. They were stolen by a maid who set out to make a fortune with her own two legs and feet. Mary Leigh Baglow—called Marilee for short, if I remember rightly. According to the accounts, she really was a very good dancer. She managed to get herself hired as a maid, although the story isn't clear how, and she decided that those shoes were her ticket to fame and fortune. It's said that those shoes made her dancing even better, somehow. One day, when she was so near her goal, she died; just… keeled over during a dance. She was still wearing the shoes."

"I thought you said that Mildred was the last to have worn the shoes?"

"That story was before Mildred died, however."

_Which means that Annabelle wasn't dead, yet? Something's not right…_ Still… a dancer that keeled over while wearing the shoes… a premonitory chill slid down Mai's spine. That girl had definitely been one of Annabelle's victims, she was sure.

"Is that the first time they were stolen?"

"And the last. Occasionally, the kids of the house would take them and play, but they never left the premise of the house."

"When did this Mary Leigh die, roughly?"

"Hmm… 1870's I want to say."

"If I may ask…" she began.

"Anything," he said. _Anything but Annabelle._

"What was Mildred's name?"

"Pardon?"

"Her name… her family name."

_Well damn. She's got me hook, line, and sinker. _"Hathenway," he answered honestly. "Why?"

Mai hoped that her face looked perplexed. "I thought it would have been McLaughlin."

Samuel wasn't sure he believed that. "My father married into the family. He brought McLaughlin with him."

"Ah, I see. I was simply curious."

_I bet._ Out loud he said, "Well I'm flattered. Anything else?"

Mai considered asking if there were more stories of people dying while they wore the shoes, but he wouldn't answer that, she was sure. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I'm afraid that about sums it up."

"I see." _Thanks for the non-informative interview,_ she thought. "Then, that concludes this interview. I'm Mai Taniyama, signing off." She stopped the tape and slid the device over to Yasuhara, motioning to her cup and him.

Understanding, he slid out of the booth to let her out. Mai turned and grabbed both cups. "What do you want?" she asked, slipping back into Japanese.

The bespectacled investigator looked at the soda machine. "A diet coke works nicely."

"I'll be right back," she promised.

"Her English is better than I anticipated," Samuel said, watching her go.

"Shibuya-san, John, and mostly Lin-san have been very good tutors," Yasuhara responded, popping his own tape in. "I've helped, too."

"I've met Mr. Lin," he said. "Tall, wears suits?" _Miss Mai's boyfriend._

"That's him."

"What kind of research do you all do?"

"Scientific," Yasuhara answered promptly, sliding out of the booth when Mai came back to the table with their drinks. "Thank you, Taniyama-san," he said, when she put her glass down where he'd been sitting.

Reseating himself, he reached over and grabbed a straw, unwrapped it, and stuck it into the cola.

"Scientific?" Samuel asked.

"Currently, we're dabbling in Quantum Physics!" he said cheerfully. "Would you like to hear some of the theories we're currently researching?"

"I'll pass, thanks," he said, thinking to himself that the only thing people who studied any sort of physics were good for was making other people feel stupid. _All the more reason to get her away from that man, then,_ he decided. "Well, before we start the second interview, I'm going to get something to drink. My throat is just parched," he said, sliding out of the booth. "I'll be right back."

_Take your time,_ Mai thought, smiling at Yuka who watched them like a hawk. She peered at Yasuhara curiously. "Quantum physics?" she asked.

"I think Shibuya-san would enjoy such a topic, don't you?"

Mai doubted that. "If it doesn't have anything to do with Paranormal Research, I'd say no."

"You might be right."

………

Hernando watched the movie with little interest. It was something to help pass the time—despite the fact that it had failed miserably throughout the entire flight. The flight itself was almost over. That only added to the long stretch of eternity that he'd already endured. Next to him, Mercedes slept, using him as a pillow. From her iPod, he could hear the strains of… was it Bach or Mozart? He didn't know; it sounded all the same to him. What Hernando did know was that he envied Mercedes right then, because he didn't dare sleep. Carmen would be waiting for him if he did. Sighing, he glanced at the small screen that his wife had been using to watch a movie of her own. Now it showed the duration of the flight: three hours and forty-five minutes left until the plane landed at Narita Airport. His passport would once again gain a stamp from Japan. _Thirteen,_ he recalled dimly. _Stamp number thirteen. Unlucky thirteen. The last stamp I'll ever get,_ he thought morbidly. A chill ran down his spine. _What nonsense!_ he scolded himself. Despite that, he couldn't shake the cold feeling building in him. _Unlucky thirteen… oh, stop acting like a scared kid!_ He looked back at his wife's screen. Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty-six seconds.

After that, judgment.

………

"Thank you very much for you time, Mr. McLaughlin," Yasuhara said, bowing to the American and getting into the waiting taxi.

"Yes, thank you," Mai said, bowing as well.

"You're most welcome," he said, smiling at her and nodding coolly to her bespectacled companion. He turned back to Mai. "Call me anytime," he told her. _I fully expect you to call and soon. Just imagining your frantic voice is drawing shivers down my spine._

Mai bit back the urge to snarl at him. Instead, she forced a smile that was mostly likely a grimace. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good."

Mai debated with herself for a second, then decided to take the chance. "There's something that you should also keep in mind, Mr. McLaughlin."

"What's that, Miss Taniyama?" he queried, smiling down at her.

"I _know_ Annabelle's inside me and I know what she wants." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And believe me when I say that I'm not going to let her win."

_Go on,_ he thought, _seal your fate. _

"I would think twice about keeping secrets," she continued. "I'm not going to help Annabelle, Mr. McLaughlin. I'm going to help myself. Whether you tell me about Annabelle, or whether I find out about her myself, I will triumph."

She looked so fierce and adorable as she glared at him that Samuel couldn't help it. He reached out to draw her close, but she stepped out of reach.

"And one last thing. Your advances are unappreciated. Desist. I already have someone that I lo—care for."

"Oh? Then I'd like to meet the boy that captured your interests," he teased.

Mai gave him a strange look. "You've already met him," she said. "Lin? He's the one you gave your business card to."

_Jig's up,_ he decided. "I wish I could, Miss Taniyama, but I simply can't." Samuel leaned forward to kiss her cheek and instead got her ear when she dodged. He solved that by catching her arm and holding her in place. Yasuhara emerged from the cab, his body tense; he watched McLaughlin warily. The American ignored him, focusing completely on Mai. "You captivate me," he whispered huskily, dropping a kiss on the cheek he'd missed originally. "And I'll get you, sooner or later; you could make it easier on both of us and opt for earlier. I always get what I want, you know. One way or another, you'll grace my bed," he promised, kissing her on lips pulled into a ferocious frown. _Just before you dance to death, if need be._

"Mr. McLaughlin, you'd do well to let her go," Yasuhara warned. "I'm quite competent in Judo and it looks like Gavin-san just got off the phone with the police."

Mai jerked away and glared at him wrathfully. "I refuse to allow that," she snarled. "You'll find, Mr. McLaughlin that my resolve is much tougher than you, your money, and Annabelle. Have a nice day," she said coldly, preceding Yasuhara into the cab.

As the driver started off, Yasuhara shifted to see McLaughlin still standing there, watching them off. The man raised his hand in a farewell gesture, but the bespectacled boy could plainly see the wide smirk on his face. "Cocky bastard."

"Quite," she replied, her voice seething.

………

Teppei Genda alighted from the car in front of Gavin's restaurant and looked around curiously. _What the hell?_ he wondered, glancing at Masuda as the other detective joined him.

"This is the oddest crime scene," his companion muttered.

"That's because it's not one," Genda answered. "Let's go," he called, heading into the restaurant. He stepped inside out of the humid air and into the cozy, air-conditioned interior. The smells immediately washed over him and his stomach responded, letting him know that it fiercely protested the lack of breakfast this morning.

"Was the call a crank?" Masuda asked.

"Doubtful. MacAllister's not the type to do that. He's got a sense of humor, but it doesn't run to cranking the police.

"Hmmm…" Masuda sniffed the air of the restaurant appreciatively and smiled sheepishly when his stomach gurgled loudly.

"Y'all don't take the time to stop and eat, do you?"

Genda turned to see Gavin MacAllister standing with his hands on his hips and a disapproving frown stretched across his face. Masuda stared at him in wonder. He'd seen his fair share of foreigners, but this man was exotic. Tall, maybe taller than Genda-san, broad-shouldered and slim; he had pale, lightly freckled skin stretched over an aristocratic bone structure of sharp, high-arched cheek bones, long, straight nose, and thin, chiseled lips. His green eyes were piercing; Masuda swore that they saw right through him and his partner. The younger detective started slightly when he saw a purple ring around the man's pupils. But most shocking was his hair: it was bright; candy-apple red with gold woven in here and there.

Noticing his stare, Gavin aimed a strange look at him. "What's wrong with you, lad?" he asked.

Masuda flushed at being caught red-handed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just… I've seen plenty of foreigners—don't misunderstand! But I've never…" he gestured to MacAllister's hair and eyes.

MacAllister's lips pulled into a smile. "Never met a man from the Highlands, have you lad?"

"I…no. No, I haven't. I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for, laddie boy?"

"I—"

"MacAllister, leave my partner alone. Why did you call?"

Gavin smiled grimly and motioned for the two to follow him. He led the way to one of the empty booths. Settling himself, he withdrew a cell phone and flipped it open, bringing up a photograph. He then handed the cell to Genda.

"And?" the detective asked, showing it to Masuda. His quick scrutiny hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"The man introduced himself as Samuel McLaughlin. He had lunch here with two regular patrons—I've mentioned Taniyama-chan to you before, haven't I?"

"She's a friend-of-a-friend, right?"

"She's a permanent employee of the company that employs Houshou-kun from time to time."

"I've met him, too. Nice guy, got a weird fashion sense, though."

"Apparently band members aren't supposed to have good fashion sense, period."

"Where are you going with this story, MacAllister?"

"In other words, 'get back to the point?'"

"It had better be a worthy one."

"Go to the next picture," MacAllister advised.

Suspicious, Genda did as he was asked. Clicking the button for the next picture, he felt his lips pull down into a ferocious frown when the picture presented itself. The same man leaned forward, his lips poised to drop a kiss. Were that the only thing in the picture, Genda would have dismissed it as being labeled suspicious. But the young lady looked like she was trying desperately to get away and was impeded by the fact that the very man trying to force a kiss on her, held her in place. He began to understand why he'd been called. That alone would have sold Gavin's story, but what really took the cake was the wary, ready look on the young, bespectacled man's face that stood outside the cab. He looked ready to attack, Genda decided.

"That her boyfriend?" he asked, pointing at the young man.

"No," Gavin said, shaking his head. "Though I feel sorry for that American man when her boyfriend finds out about this. That young man is also a staff member at Taniyama's company. So, do you get why I called you?"

Genda looked back at Taniyama. She was a pretty thing, he decided. Sweet-features, brown hair that hung chin length and an eye color that matched her hair. But her expression in that picture was one of disgust and fright. Abruptly, Genda went to the next picture. The American was standing there staring after something—Genda assumed it was the cab—with a smirk on his handsome features and one hand raised in a farewell gesture. Something about the arrogance the man exuded set the detective on edge. He had something up his sleeve, Teppei guessed.

"Does she wish to press charges?" he asked, handing the phone back to MacAllister.

"I have no clue what she wants to do."

"Then why did you call me instead of calling the regular police?" Genda grated.

"Because… I think there's something else wrong with her. And I'm fairly certain he had something to do with it."

"Watch it, Gavin. Especially if you don't have any proof."

MacAllister shook his head. "I'm not saying he did have anything to do with it and I'm not saying he didn't. This is more like a very, very strong hunch; my gut tells me he had something to do with this. All you have to do is look in her eyes and then look at his smug grin. I'm sure she even asked him about it and she got the run around."

"What do you mean there's something wrong with her?"

Reaching out, Gavin grabbed a straw and fiddled with it. His eyes took on a far away look as if he was gazing to the past for something that was just within reach, but not quite there. "The Highlands," he began, "the Muris. They have many, many stories. Some pretty common ones, some not. I remember, however, when I was a wee lad sitting at my granny's feet during the harshest snowstorms. She used to tell such stories, my Grandmother Ailith did. She told us stories of ghosts and Faeries; Selkies and the changeling children left behind to sicken and die when the faeries would take the real babies away. One story she told in particular was one that happened during her girlhood. The powerful Fae can disguise themselves, you know. Pass themselves off as humans and they could do it so well that a body couldn't tell they _weren't_ human—unless they looked in their eyes."

"Their eyes?" Masuda asked, fascinated, despite himself. Ghosts and monsters, Japan had her share, too. But none of the stories that he could remember ever included the art of looking like they were human. _No, _he corrected himself. _That's not true. There are ghosts that can. And the gods._ Glancing at his partner, Masuda saw a well-known grimace on his face; Genda certainly didn't care for an example that came from story-telling.

"Aye lad, their eyes. It's said the eyes are the windows to a person's soul. Gran often told me the story of the Fae man that tried to woo her. Wouldn't ever mention his name, like she was frightened that he might come back again and get her, despite her old age. She often said the man was fair of face and splendidly built, with a sweet, persuading voice, but he never looked her in the eyes, not a once. So one day, she decided to look her handsome love straight in the eyes, to see if he meant every word. And she did. She said they were terrible, those eyes; beautiful like the finest cut emeralds, but cruel and cold as winter. She said he disappeared after that."

"Please," Genda scoffed. "Does your story actually have a point, Gavin?"

"Weren't you paying attention, Teppei? The eyes, Teppei, the eyes." Gavin frowned. "Looking into Mai's eyes, I got chills… because it wasn't just Mai in there. There was something else and I don't know what. But I will tell you this: _she_ was adamant that whatever was wrong with her was McLaughlin's fault. I didn't, however, call just because of that. I called because it's strange that this man cares so much about Taniyama-chan; he hasn't known her for very long, I'm sure. According the Tokyo Newspaper, that man and his Civil War collection only arrived in our country Sunday evening. I, personally, think it's disturbing that's he's taken to her so instantly."

"But sometimes love works that way," Masuda commented.

"Aye lad, you're right, but look at Taniyama's face."

"That's true," Genda said. "She tried valiantly to get away, didn't she?"

"She did."

Genda sighed. "I still don't know why you called me. I do have other cases to look into, you know."

"Because you're a good judge of character. And maybe Taniyama-chan wants to press charges."

"For heaven's sake, this isn't my duty!"

"But can you do it?"

"Maybe."

"I'll tell you something else that might help change your mind. There's some nasty rumors about that collection. My wife was looking at the collection online and somehow got diverted to several sites that state there's a body count wherever that collection has gone. No one really special, but there're bodies all the same. Could be a hoax, of course, but I wouldn't expect a state paper to host such nonsense."

"Body counts in the States are America's problem, not ours," Genda answered, knowing he'd just doomed himself. He knew exactly what Gavin was going to say.

"And it might soon become Japan's—starting with Taniyama-chan. She's a good kid. I don't want to see anything bad happen to her."

Genda glared at him. "You play dirty. I'll look into this McLaughlin and talk to the young lady."

"Thank you," Gavin said seriously. "But aren't you giving me too much credit? After all, you just let me win. Never mind, never mind," he said. "Here's the company she works for," the Scotsman said, handing Genda a card. "I'll give you one last speculation to think about. This Civil War collection caused quite a hype—especially when the museum decided to host it. And instead of touring the States where the war mattered most, it's here in Japan. You know, England cared more about the Civil War than Japan ever has, because Japan had her own Civil War if you think about it."

"That's correct. And there's a body count in the States, if the rumors are true," Masuda said, looking at Genda.

Genda was inclined to agree with both points. "And why bring the collection _here_ when it doesn't really impact Japan at all?" he asked, throwing in his two cents worth. Then he frowned. On the one hand, what Gavin had called him about could have been dealt with by the normal police; there really was no need to call a detective. On the other hand, if America had a body count from this collection, then he was right, something like that could become Japan's problem very quickly. He sighed. _Looks like Hijikata, The Elements Network, and Tooyama Haruka will have to wait. This is very disturbing._ "Masuda, when we get back to the station, confirm the rumors of a body count and get the exact number and States."

"Right."

"Thanks, Teppei," Gavin said sincerely. Then he slid two menus over to the detectives. "Pick something to eat. You're not leaving on an empty stomach. That's no way to work."

………

When Mai walked into the Takamoto house, she wondered what the screaming was about. It seemed that Alejandro-san and Chisato-san were both in a fine fury. Then Mai frowned. The lady's voice didn't sound a bit like Chisato-san. The argument itself was mainly in English and both investigators caught the tail end of Alejandro-san admonishing the other person and insisting that she return to the Kibbutz. The response to that was immediate, angry, and not in English. Mai recognized it as Spanish.

The brunette spotted Chisato coming towards them with a wan smile on her face. "Welcome back," she greeted.

Mai returned the smile. "We're back," she greeted. She winced at what seemed to be a particularly vicious insult from the other woman. "Dare I ask?"

Chisato shrugged. "Rosalie arrived about half an hour after you two left," she said. "Alejandro wants her to return to the Kibbutz."

"But why?" Mai demanded. "Doesn't this concern Rosalie-san, as well?"

"I told him much the same earlier. I don't think he listened." Chisato sighed, mentally cursing her stubborn spouse and equally stubborn in-law. "He really does try to shoulder too much responsibility. Ah, the idiosyncrasies of men, I suppose. Another person from your crew arrived, as well."

"Takahashi-san?" Yasuhara asked, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

"I believe so. She said she was the administrative assistant."

Without another word, Yasuhara made his way to the base room to greet his girlfriend. Chisato watched him go, smiling faintly as he went. She looked back at Mai. "You look upset," she commented. "I'll say this as a friend," Chisato continued, "if you'd like to talk, you know where to find me."

Mai smiled gratefully. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Yes, do." Chisato shook her head as the fighting got louder. "I think I'll help Matsuzaki-san in the kitchen. And hopefully, one of the neighbors will call the police." Turning, she headed the opposite way.

Thoughtfully, Mai made her way to the base room. "I'm back," she announced, stepping through the door.

"Mai-chan!" Yuko pounced on the brunette investigator and hugged her hard; Mai returned the embrace. "I heard from Chiaki-chan that you were possessed. Is everything all right?"

Mai pulled back and shook her head regretfully. "Not quite. But don't worry. Between Naru and all of us, I'm sure we won't deal with Annabelle for very long."

Tears shimmered in Yuko's eyes and she gave Mai another hard hug. When Shibuya-san had first offered her the job of 'administrative assistant' she hadn't thought she'd be accompanying them on cases. A fool she'd been to believe that. And the first case that she had worked with the group, she'd watched a man (undoubtedly deranged) die because he refused to be exorcized. It hadn't mattered to him that he was being devoured by the very creature that had possessed him. Yuko had no desire to see that repeat itself.

"Where's Lin?" Mai asked, looking around for the tall, Chinese man.

"Should be in his room," Naru answered, not looking up at her.

"What are you up to?" she asked curiously.

"I'm looking into the legend of La Llorona."

"Any luck?"

He ignored her. Chiaki offered her an apologetic smile. Returning the smile with a shake of her head, Mai left the base room to find her boyfriend.

………

Lin honestly couldn't imagine why phone calls with Madoka almost always went awry. He would have blamed it on the fact that she could be so absent minded, but that was just a front that she put on. Madoka was one smart, manipulating, conniving cookie, but if she asked him one more time about his dating or sex life, he was going to strangle her the next time he saw her.

"Madoka," he said sharply, "this is a serious issue. Leave my personal life aside for I assure you it's none of your damned business. Mai's in trouble."

Madoka dropped the wheedling tone she'd been trying to use to get information from him. She recalled a similar incident about a year ago when Naru had phoned her with the request for a therapist affiliated with the BSPR that spoke fluent Japanese. Mai had been in trouble then, too.

"This… is very eerie, Lin," she said, all mirth gone from her voice.

"I beg your pardon?" the sorcerer asked.

"Did you know that something similar happened a year ago or thereabouts?"

A little over the aforementioned time period, SPR had been dealing with an insidious lust spell. But Lin hadn't contacted the BSPR. That meant that Naru had.

"Mai was also in trouble."

"What did Naru ask of you?"

"He asked me to send a therapist that was affiliated with the BSPR and able to fluently speak Japanese."

"And seeing as none showed up, it's safe to assume they were all busy."

"Right. Hey, Lin? Tell me you just need me to dispatch someone to your location."

"I certainly wish it were that simple, Madoka. I really do."

She sighed. "Doesn't hurt to ask, I suppose." Her voice was wistful. It changed, then, becoming all business. "All right, I'm listening."

The sorcerer explained in concise words their current case and where it stood.

"A Llorona? In _Japan_? That specter's usually found in the American Southwest and Mexico, isn't it?"

"This one's a bit unique. It followed one family here and we're working on why."

"Well. What an intriguing report _this_ will produce. Don't leave out any details. But interesting as that is, you don't need me."

"Not for that, no. The other problem is that Mai's been possessed by a ghost from the American Civil War and it looks like an exorcism won't help much."

"It'll just come back," she mused. "How in the world did Mai come to be possessed by a ghost from America's bloodiest war? Is it a soldier?" she asked. Her cat jumped into her lap and curled up, making himself at home. Absently, Madoka reached down to pet him and smiled at his satisfied purr.

"It's not a soldier," Lin answered. "We don't know much except for a name."

Grabbing a pad and rooting underneath her pillow for a pen, she clicked it. "What's the name?"

"Annabelle. From what I can gather, she was a Southern Belle from Georgia. I'm suspecting that this happened when Mai was at a Civil War exhibit in Ueno."

"The Civil War exhibit at the Tokyo National Museum, right?" Madoka asked. She nodded when he confirmed it. "I've heard of it, actually. It's going on a world tour." Reaching to her cat's ears, she started to scratch behind them gently. "The exhibit is owned by the McLaughlin Family and is acknowledged as one of the largest collection of Civil War memorabilia."

"And?"

"But," she emphasized, "some people say there's something wrong with the collection. It's toured all over the States, but according to quite a few sites, mainly personal blogs and tabloids, the collection's left behind a body count."

"That's bad news," he said. "What are the police saying?"

"Well that's what's odd. They're not saying anything. There's virtually no information from the police. They haven't even confirmed or denied the rumors."

"Meaning someone's paying big bucks to keep it hush-hush," Lin translated, thinking of McLaughlin. He seemed like the type to do such a thing. "Are there rumors of the collection being cursed, haunted, or both?"

"All of the above."

"Tourism," the sorcerer said grimly. "The next dead body may be you."

"Macabre, but that's about the gist of it," Madoka agreed.

"Then, here's what I would like you to do. I need you to find out everything you can. Go to America, if you must. I'll happily reimburse you."

_To go this far,_ she thought with a wistful smile. "You don't have to ask, you know. I'll do it because I adore Mai, too. But I'll definitely send you the receipts."

"I'm certain that the lone pair of dancing slippers in this display are part of it. Mai dreamed of them before she saw them in reality, and she dreamed of Annabelle, too. Also, if you're up to a challenge, see if you can find out how far back this body count goes in Georgia, because this can't be recent. Mai and Yasuhara-san took one of the tape recorders with them to the interview with McLaughlin-san. I'll listen to it later tonight and call your cell phone with whatever news there is—though I'm not really hopeful."

Madoka heard the frustration in the sorcerer's voice. "She's being very opaque about this entire situation, isn't she?" Madoka asked sympathetically.

"Yes, she is. She's virtually ignoring it and damned if I can figure out _why_."

"Because you all are working on something else currently?"

"We do know how to multi-task quite well, Madoka."

She smiled. "I'm well aware of that. But maybe you should ask Mai instead of guessing."

Lin sighed. "Communication is key?" he asked wryly.

Her smile widened. "Communication is the fundamental basic of _all_ relationships. I'll be in touch."

Hanging up the phone, she set it next to her and turned to the laptop on her desk. She brought up her internet browser to begin booking her flight.

………

When the car stopped, Genda alighted from it and simply stood there, staring at the building of the West Setagaya Police Station. Taking out a cigarette, he lit it and took a puff, still staring. Masuda came to stand beside him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Genda didn't respond; her merely took another pull and then another. Masuda sighed, wondering what was going through his partner's head. Turning, he began to pace, trying to get rid of the bloated feeling in his stomach. He'd eaten way too much.

"Let's go," Genda ordered, making his way to the building. Masuda hurried after him and once inside began to make his way to the stairs leading to their office. He stopped when he realized that Genda wasn't with him. "Genda-san?" he asked, turning to the man.

"What are you doing, Masuda?"

"The office," he answered perplexed.

Genda frowned. "We're not going there just yet. Follow me."

"Where are we going?" the other detective asked, trying to keep up with Genda's long strides.

"We're going to visit a different squad."

"We are? Which one?"

"Squad Zero."

Masuda's brow furrowed. "They're part of Special Investigations, right?"

"Right. Do you know what they investigate?"

Masuda shook his head, following his partner deeper into the building. Genda stuffed his hands into his pocket. "Squad Zero gets the odd-ball cases that most detectives in my opinion won't even contemplate. They reinvestigate the cases that are blamed on the supernatural."

"So basically they investigate the cases that people claim to be caused by ghosts and stuff, right? So why are we visiting them?"

Genda held up the card that Gavin had given him. Curious, Masuda took it from him and peered at it. "Shibuya Psychic Research?" he asked, handing it back.

Genda nodded. "I figure that Squad Zero knows about this place. At the very least, they've probably heard of it—it's their business, after all. Left here." They walked a bit further before coming to a halt in front of a door that announced Squad Zero. "Please excuse us," he said, opening the door and stepping inside.

The door opened smoothly, admitting the pair, and the two detectives walked into a bustling office. Masuda found himself slightly disappointed. They were doing normal things—things that he did when he was in his office. He'd expected weirdly dressed people to chant ancient sutras, not regular looking officers working on reports, filing, and making phone calls.

"Can I help you two?" a voice asked.

Looking to his right, Genda saw a slim, tawny-haired man hang up a phone and approach.

"I'm Genda," he said, bowing. "This is my partner, Masuda."

"Hirota," the man responded, returning the bow with one of his own. "You're too seasoned an officer to be new, so you definitely didn't get lost," Hirota commented with a mischievous sparkle in his dark eyes.

Genda's lips quirked upwards into a faint grin at the observation. "I actually came to ask some questions."

The sparkle dimmed and was replaced by a serious expression. "Oh? Is this something you'll need Squad Zero's help with?"

"I'm not sure yet," Genda answered honestly.

Hirota tilted his head to the side and gave a cursory once over of the two detectives that had come to Squad Zero. Masuda wasn't as seasoned as his partner, but he was sharp and aware. Genda—well, Hirota had heard of him, actually. Genda Teppei was well known in Kendo circles and he'd heard his father talk about him from time to time. "Suppose you ask your questions and we'll go from there?"

"Sounds like a plan." Reaching into his pocket, Genda withdrew the card that he'd shown to Masuda. "A young lady was nearly molested outside a restaurant. As my current case is at a stand-still, I said I'd look into this for the restaurant owner. The young lady in question works for this company," he finished, handing over the card.

Dread pooled into Hirota's stomach and sank like lead as he reached for the proffered card. He glanced at it and groaned mentally. _I should have known. There's no getting away from them, is there?_

"What is it?" Genda asked, observing the look on Hirota's face.

For a few moments, Hirota remained silent. Then, "I know these guys," he said, at last.

"You do?" Masuda asked. _Trust Genda-san's instinct to be right!_

"I do." Hirota stared at the simple piece of cardboard that was devoid of everything except the black, English letters S.P.R.

"What can you tell me about them, then?" Genda asked.

Handing the card back, Hirota grabbed his jacket. "Hey, Mitsutaka! If anyone asks, I stepped out with two other detectives."

"Sure," the man replied, hanging up the phone he'd been using.

"Follow me," Hirota commanded, motioning to Genda and Masuda. He led them out of the building to a shady break area that sat off to the side of the station. Going over to the vending machine, Hirota dropped in a few coins and pushed the button for iced coffee. Retrieving the can, he popped the top and took a seat at the picnic table, motioning for the other two to join him. Taking a liberal swallow, he began. "Actually, I've worked with them before."

"How did that come to be?"

Hirota took another sip. "I was investigating the office manager. Unofficially, that is."

Masuda frowned. "So you posed as staff in the office?"

"Not at all," Hirota replied, shaking his head. "There's no way I'd have been able to get away with that, seeing as the company has three or four staff members—or did, when I was investigating. No, I was posing as the cousin to a homeowner who was having quite a few troubles with her new house. Inexplicable problems, that is. I was the one who introduced her to this company," he said tapping the business card. "I also wanted to keep an eye on the office manager, so I asked them to use me as an assistant while they investigated."

"When you say inexplicable problems… what do you mean?" Genda asked slowly.

Hirota frowned at the can on the table. "Electrical problems to start—the breakers tripped easily; other electrical items would break one after another. The T.V. pictures would warp; there was static on the phone line; the house was always damp; rain always leaked in, and of course, extremely pesky neighbors."

"Those aren't inexplicable."

"No, you're right. All the owner needed to do, of course, was call and have those things fixed. And she did, but too many calls…"

"You're joking," the kendo master said.

"I wish, but the repairman always blamed the house's age, when he came out."

"What about the neighbors?"

"Well, they're more inexplicable than anything, if you will."

"How do you mean?"

Hirota frowned. "You didn't hear me name names. The Agawa family wasn't necessarily on good terms with the Sasakura family, their neighbors. However, Sasakura Kazumi-san was so friendly towards Agawa Midori-san that it was just creepy."

"Maybe she simply needed a friend?" Masuda asked.

"Then she had no business asking to keep a spare key for Midori-san," Hirota countered.

The other two detectives stared at him. Hirota gave them a tight-lipped smile in response.

"All right… why don't you tell us the inexplicable problems that made you introduce her to this company."

"That house… had a bad reputation, I assume. There was a rotten smell that always pervaded the place. All the windows were replaced with mirrors so a person couldn't see out and no one knew just why. The owner's mother would sometimes close the shutters during the day because she said that it felt like someone was peering inside and it bothered her. There was also the bath water that turned red somehow and the rumor of a suicide in the house."

"So someone slit their wrists in a bath tub?" Genda mused. "And they got a ghost out of it. Good reasons to seek out a company that performs exorcisms."

Hirota's smile turned peculiar. "There were deaths in that house, true enough, but no one ever committed suicide. The Sasakuras made that up to chase people away from the house—though they needn't have bothered."

"Why's that?" Masuda asked.

"Because even before the Sasakuras moved into their house, made up the story of suicide and began their harassment, people didn't stay in the Agawa house very long. And you know what? I don't know how many times I saw that small piece of information and simply thought nothing of it. But Shibuya-san… after solving the explainable problems, went on to stay a bit longer because he was unsatisfied with the investigation's end. When I asked him why, he commented that it was curious that even _before_ the harassment started, people didn't stay long in that house. And the need for the mirrors covering the windows—what purpose did they serve?

"I never did strongly believe in the paranormal. I was always the skeptic. Probably why I joined Squad Zero. People, I assumed, would make up anything so they wouldn't have to face their crimes. And then came the possessed Sasakuras who tried to emulate what Sekiguchi-san and his wife had done back in Showa 49. And then came that _thing_ that they called _Kosori._ Let me tell you what Judo doesn't work against: ghosts. After that… well, I still suspected Dr. Davis, but not of being a fraud. Don't misunderstand. It didn't change my initial opinions of the supernatural. But…I did grant him a little leeway. Even though there was an actual crime, the Sasakuras couldn't help but commit it. They didn't even know what they were doing, or why."

Genda frowned. To him, it seemed as if Hirota was holding back quite a lot—as if he just didn't want to remember it or relive it. It had to have been quite a shock for that. He simply nodded, however and said, "What's your overall opinion of the company?"

"In regards to?"

Ah, Detective Hirota was back. "Tell me about their clientele."

"It's safe to say that Dr. Davis—excuse me—Shibuya-san is very selective about the cases he'll choose to work on."

"Only those with the most money, right?" Masuda asked, knowingly. He knew the type; he'd seen it often enough in other cases.

"No," Hirota said, flooring the younger detective. "The Agawas didn't have very much money. After all, they'd just bought a house and during the time they'd been there, there were so many repairs from the Sasakuras… no, they certainly didn't have a lot to give, and yet, Shibuya-san still took their case. As far as Shibuya-san is concerned, he wants nothing to do with the case if it doesn't deal with the Paranormal, money or not."

Genda blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly; Masuda's jaw dropped.

"Unexpected, isn't it?" Hirota asked the younger detective.

"Yeah. What kind of person is he?"

"A focused one," Genda answered for Hirota. "But somehow, he needs to make a profit. So how's he doing it?"

Hirota shook his head. "Well, clients give what they can afford to. But, Shibuya-san doesn't need the money. That's why he can afford to inform the clients that they're welcome to give whatever monetary compensation they'd like to. Turns out he's got several financial backers in England that foot his bills—and they're likely very wealthy. Operating in Shibuya isn't cheap and all that equipment is costly."

"What kind of equipment?"

"Cameras, mainly night cameras, thermographs, electric thermometers, microphones that can pick up anything, you name it."

"So he's also a serious Ghost Hunter, eh?"

"Very."

"What's his satisfaction rating?"

Hirota smiled faintly. "He's got a one-hundred percent satisfaction rating, attitude and all."

Genda stared at him, unsure if he'd heard right. "You're joking," he said, at last.

"Not at all. Genda-san… why are you asking me about Shibuya-san and S.P.R. when the person you're really interested in is Taniyama-san?"

The kendo master blinked and aimed a faint grin at Hirota. "You… you're good. What gave it away?"

"I figured it had to be her. I doubt anyone would bother with Matsuzaki-san or Hara-san. But Taniyama-san… I can see someone trying to harm her, sadly enough. Especially when I worked with her. She's really selfless; she'll put herself straight into harm's way to help. She's a good kid and she's got a fair, honest head on her shoulders. She also didn't treat me like an imbecile, unlike her boss—who was just contemptuous towards me for being of what he considered "lower intelligence." And, of course, if someone did try to harm Taniyama-san, then as an officer that serves justice, I would love to make sure that the perpetrator is forced to answer for their crimes."

Genda smirked. "You're all right."

"Back at you."

"Come with us? You already know Taniyama-san. She might be more apt to talk to you, rather than Masuda or myself."

There were a thousand reasons or more that should have kept Hirota from saying 'yes,' but the prospect of seeing Taniyama and making sure that she was unharmed, had him rising to his feet. Downing the rest of the coffee, he tossed the can, picked up his jacket, and looked at the other two detectives expectantly.

………

Lin had just gotten off the phone with Madoka when Mai walked into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it. Lin smiled. "How did it go? Did you get anything useful?" he asked. When she didn't react and acted as if she hadn't heard him, he grew worried. "Mai, what happened? Mai?"

She took one step away from the door and then another and another until she was standing right in front of him. Lin peered beneath her bangs and frowned at the sight of her face. _Ask the right question,_ he reminded himself. "What did he do to make you so upset?"

At that, she flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his neck. Her tears burned his skin as they trickled down her cheeks. "Mai?"

"Hold me," she begged. "Please, just hold me."

Whatever _had_ happened couldn't be good and Lin knew it. Biting the inside of his cheek, he folded his arms around her in a comforting embrace and pulled her close. He stroked her back gently and waited patiently for her to tell him. Quietly, she began to recount her earlier experiences.

"When we first got to the hotel, there was a message waiting at the desk for me. It was… an invitation… to go up to his room. You can just imagine what the concierge was thinking, I'm sure."

Lin could. His arms tightened around her and his eyes narrowed. "I really don't like that man," he muttered.

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

"What then?"

Sighing, she dropped her arms and settled down next to him on the mattress. His arms draped around her and she continued. "I sent up a message telling him that if he wasn't down in the lobby within the next couple minutes, to hell with him."

A soft laugh escaped Lin's throat. "You never cease to amaze me."

She blushed at that and then sobered. "When we got to Gavin-san's restaurant, I asked him to tell me about Annabelle. You can listen to the recording, if you like. I'm sure you're going to, anyways. He wouldn't tell me anything, of course. Pointless to ask. It was the same thing with Baker's Field. Nothing. He did, however, try to tell me that Mildred was the last person to wear the shoes. Now that I think about it, it might be true. Annabelle died at a young age. Maybe Mildred was a victim, same with Mary Leigh Baglow."

"Who?"

"I don't know. I don't know if she was real, or if he made her up."

He tapped her forehead gently. "Tell me what this is whispering."

Mai bit her lip and shook her head. "It's so out of whack. But… I get the sense that everyone he mentioned was real, but they weren't in order, if that makes any sense."

"As in?"

"As in… I'm sure that Annabelle was the person those slippers were made for. And I'm sure she was the last one to wear them. But in between those times, Mildred and Mary Leigh Baglow also wore them. Whether or not they were victims, I don't know."

Lin nodded. "I'll tell that to Madoka. I've sent her to America to start looking into this collection."

"Ask her to look into Baker's Field and for a Family Bible for the McLaughlin's," Mai said, unfazed by Lin's comment. She'd had a feeling he'd call and ask her to help with the investigation of Annabelle.

He nodded. "Will do. What else?" he asked her. "What did he do to upset you?"

"I'd hoped you'd forget."

The sorcerer just looked at her.

"Yes, I know. After lunch, I decided to impart a warning to Mr. McLaughlin. I told him that I knew about Annabelle and that I wouldn't let her win. My resolve, I told him, is greater than him, his money, and Annabelle because I'm going to help myself. She chose the wrong victim this time."

"I wonder about that," Lin commented.

Surprised, Mai pulled back as much as his hold would allow and peered at him with equal amounts of wariness and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Does it occur to you that maybe she chose the _right_ victim this time?" he asked.

Beginning to trace random patterns on his shirt, Mai pondered this. "Gene did say she usually went for people with abilities like mine."

"And you yourself said she's tired of all this. So perhaps she chose the right victim when she chose you. You're powerful enough to talk to spirits and perform exorcisms. Combine that with all that you've learned from Eugene and the rest of us—it makes you formidable, especially to a weary ghost. And of course, we'll all help you and we specialize in ghost hunting. I'd say you're the right victim for ending her suffering."

"She's… really, really, desperate."

"I can't really blame her. When I was talking to Madoka, she mentioned that the exhibit has been all over the States and has accumulated quite the body count."

Mai's fingers stopped tracing the patterns on his shirt and she crumpled the fabric between her fingers in anger. "That's unforgivable!"

"It is. But…empathetic as you are, that's not what upset you."

Releasing his shirt, she smoothed it as best she could and resumed tracing patterns on to it. "I told him that I wanted him to stop his arduous pursuits. I have someone I care for."

"Oh, is that so?" Lin asked, toppling them both to the sheets. "Do I know him?"

"You just might," she said, grinning at him. Then she sobered and told him the rest. "When I told him he'd already met the person who held my heart…all joking was gone. He told me he couldn't stop because I'd captivated him. He tried to kiss me, but I dodged away. Then he grabbed my arm and kissed my cheek and…" she trailed off, touching her lips with her finger tips; she flushed.

Lin felt a jolt of red, hot rage surge through him. He'd long since accepted his feelings for her; it was part of the reason that he didn't object to Naru, Yasuhara-san, John, or Bou-san being so familiar with her. This however, was different. For trying to take what was his, Lin was going to make the man pay dearly.

"There's more," she said, interrupting his turmoil. His eyes snapped to hers and held them. "He told me that he'd get me; he told me that one way or another, I would grace his bed. And he said that he always got what he wanted."

That rage began to pulsate through his very veins. Over his dead body. He cradled her face in his hands and locked eyes with her. "I will never let that happen," he promised, his voice seething.

He pressed his lips to hers, softly, gently, making Mai think that he was sealing a vow. Then it grew more tender and his mouth moved against hers. Mai sighed and relaxed in his embrace. The long, sweet kisses he liked to give always made her feel like pudding after. His mouth left hers after a second and she pouted. She didn't pout for long. His body shifted and pressed hers more firmly into the mattress. Mai's breath caught and she blushed at the intimate position he'd trapped her in; hesitantly, she bent her legs a bit and rested her knees against his hips. If Lin noticed however, he didn't acknowledge it. He felt her heart pound against her ribs and ignored it. He had too much to promise to just give into her yet.

Keeping their eyes locked, he continued. "I will not allow him to touch you ever again." He traced her neck with small kisses and ghosted his fingers down her sides and rested them on her thighs. "I'm the only one who will bring you any pleasure," he whispered, caressing the shell of one ear.

Mai shuddered; she'd never seen him this angry—had she? She wasn't even sure if anger was the right word for him right now. She did know how he was making her feel; she felt completely wanton and her body trembled with anticipation. And his voice! It was different from earlier—it was no longer patient and gentle. These tones were richer with deeper cadences that seemed to touch some deep, primal place within her. And, with a small thrill of fear, she realized that she knew this voice; she'd heard it before in a dream when he'd stolen her fifth kiss. Mai had tried to convince herself after that it hadn't been Lin, but some sort of doppelganger created by the spell or possibly by her imagination. But the reality was that that it _had_ been him. Lying atop her was the same man who'd showed her his possessive side in a dream and was currently robbing her of her senses, driving her past the threshold of madness and into the welcoming gates of delirium with his voice alone.

His lips resumed their trek down her neck and across her shoulders; he delighted in each moan she emitted and every shudder that ran through her body. He sucked hard at the skin of her throat leaving quite a noticeable mark on her creamy skin. Nothing he hadn't done before, but this was different. It was more savage and infinitely more pleasurable. With a cry, she arched her hips against his and Lin felt his control splinter like a fractured mirror. He continued to rain kisses down her body; one hand worked its way beneath her shirt and rested momentarily on her stomach before slowly sliding up further, leaving burning trails on her skin. Whimpering, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and just held on. It seemed after so long of _wanting…_ She didn't care that they were on a case or in someone else's house. Frankly put, she couldn't think enough to care. She was well past delirium's gates, by now.

She really was perfect, Lin noted, from her skin to her lithe figure lying beneath him. She'd belong to him completely soon enough, as well. _You're on a case,_ his conscience reminded him.

Lin ignored it. Mai sounded better than the good little angel on his shoulder. He enjoyed hearing each gasping breath that escaped her lips and it drove him to make it happen again and again.

_This also isn't your home or your rooms._

Lin had a very clear picture in mind of where his conscience could go as he slowly peeled Mai's shirt away from her. The clang of pots and pans crashing to the floor and an impassioned shriek in Spanish brought Lin back to reality. His control reinstated itself and he stopped, looking down at Mai. He dropped her shirt quickly and lifted himself away from her—well as far as she would allow him to go. _Great gods,_ he thought, looking at the marks he'd left on her; he tried to ignore the surge of pride at this. Her eyes opened and he noted with satisfaction that they were dark and hazy with pleasure. They cleared all too soon.

"You don't have to stop," she whispered.

"Yes, I do. This isn't the right time or place, unfortunately."

She heard the jagged edge of frustration in his voice and a slow, wanton smile spread across her face. Returning her smile, he lowered himself back into her embrace and gently knocked his forehead against hers. "Soon," he whispered into her ear. She shivered and nodded. Soon. He meant it, too.

Sighing, Mai reluctantly untangled her limbs and Lin levered himself up and away from her just as a perfunctory knock sounded in the room; the door opened a second after that and someone Mai had never met poked her head into the room. She was pretty, Mai thought, studying the intruder. She could see the family resemblance between her and Alejandro-san, but her skin was very, very fair. However, she had the same ebony hair as her brother and the same whiskey-gold eyes—that were currently wide with shock; a furious blush stained her high, arched cheekbones and her mouth dropped into a small, 'o.'

"Oh," she said her voice stunned and small. She reminded Mai of the child that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The blush intensified. "Oh," she said again. She bit her bottom lip and fretted it. "I'm sorry," she said, at last. "I hadn't realized…" She trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she simply ducked out of the room and closed the door.

"That's Rosalie-san, isn't it?" Mai asked, looking at Lin.

"That is."

"She's pretty," Mai commented, aiming a mischievous smile at him.

Lin rolled his eyes. "I hadn't noticed," he returned dryly.

"You'd better not have," the brunette said archly.

Lin felt a chuckle rise in his throat and he let out a quiet snort of laughter and aimed a small smirk at his girlfriend. Mai sat up and answered his laughter with a snicker of her own.

"I'll see what she wanted," Mai told him, vacating the bed.

"Then I'll see you back at base," Lin replied, taking one last kiss and watching her go. When the door closed, he buried his face in one hand and exhaled a long sigh. He was going to make Samuel McLaughlin pay for that lapse of control and dearly, too. Closing his eyes, he sent a short prayer to the heavens that her feelings had absolutely nothing to do with that spell from over a year ago. He didn't think his heart could handle it if that were the case.

Standing, he straightened the clothing that she'd tugged at and winced at the stinging pain at his shoulder blades. He smiled, amused. He didn't think that spell had any claim to responsibility at all.

………

Rosalie stalked down the hallway, hoping that by the time she got to the backyard, the blush would be gone from her cheeks. She'd only intended to talk to the tall, handsome, mysterious man her sister-in-law had introduced as 'Lin.' After the fight with her brother just now, she needed to blow off some steam and he seemed like he was a good listener; it didn't hurt that he was sinfully gorgeous, either. What she hadn't expected was what she saw. It was obvious that nothing had _happened_, yet, but it was equally obvious that they'd wanted to do something and she'd either walked right in on it, or… they'd decided against. _And it's none of your business Rosalie! But she was so young… and he…_ Huffing, she gave an incredulous smile, feeling her cheeks cool. Cutting through the living room, she poked her head into the kitchen. It seemed that Chisato had gotten everything to rights. Said woman shot her a stern look that had Rosalie fleeing to the backyard where Makoto and Ofelia were romping with Ginger. She smiled at their laughter and youthful faces; she smiled at the joy they got from playing with the dog. The smile faded when she looked out over the dark, inky waters of the man-made lake. For an instant, she wondered why Chisato allowed her children to play near it.

"It's safe during the day," a voice said, causing Rosalie to jump.

"Dear God above!" she exclaimed sharply, turning to look at the petite brunette that she saw with Lin, "you took years off my life! Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry," Mai answered apologetically. She sat down on the steps next to Rosalie. "It's all right during the day."

"La Llorona doesn't care if it's night or day. She'll still take children."

Mai smiled again. "It really is all right. We've made sure of it. Well… Ayako made sure."

"And how's that?"

"Charms," Mai answered simply. She nodded to the trees where they hung. "Ayako's wards are very effective."

"So you claim," Rosalie answered, turning back to the kids and dog.

"So I've seen, actually. Her charms have protected us from some very spooky specters. Lin and Bou-san put up wards around the house. It extends down to the lake," Mai said, nodding to it. "That's why they're staying away from it. The wards that they put up give out the insistence that people don't want to pass them. The more a person tries, the more insistent they become; they work."

Rosalie bit her lip again and didn't answer.

"I'm Mai," the girl continued. "Taniyama Mai. And you're Rosalie-san, yes? Takamoto Rosalie-san."

"Aren't you well-informed?" she asked.

"An essential thing for Ghost Hunters," Mai said seriously.

"So… are you here to tell me that 'Lin' is off-limits?"

"Why would I need to? He can take care of himself. If he doesn't want you near him, believe me, a glare is all it will take to send you running."

Rosalie shook her head. "How long have you two been together?" she asked.

"Over a year, now."

"How _old_ are you?"

"Nineteen. I'll be twenty soon—a fully fledged adult, then."

"And your parents are okay with you having an affair with an older man?"

Mai smiled sadly and didn't answer immediately. Finally, "I think they're happy that I'm happy."

"That's some optimism you have."

"Is it? I call it sensible. Need to talk?" Mai asked, directing the conversation away from herself. "Sounds like you and your brother had quite the row."

Rosalie protested internally. It wasn't like her to talk with total strangers—especially about personal matters. Then again, why not? After all, she'd been ready to talk to Lin and she'd already gone out on a limb of crazy and flown here from Tel Aviv. She sighed. "Alejo's upset because I left the kibbutz that I've been living on."

"It's more than that. He's concerned for you."

"He shoulders so much shit that he can't see past it anymore," Rosalie said derisively.

"Maybe. But I firmly believe he's genuinely concerned that you'll be hurt. Did you know that he was attacked?"

Shock turned Rosalie's eyes to a molten gold and she felt it sear through her. "When?" she whispered.

"When the Wailing Woman finally found her way inside."

Rosalie's eyes swept over to the mezuzah that could be clearly seen on the doorpost inside. "The bathroom," she muttered.

"How did you know?" Mai asked.

Rosalie gestured to the mezuzah sitting on the inside doorpost. "All rooms are supposed to have one, except bathrooms and other rooms of the same nature."

Mai looked at the simple silver case. She narrowed her eyes at the symbols on it and asked, "What does it say?"

"What?"

"Those are letters, right?"

"Not on that one," Rosalie said. "That's just a letter—a 'shin' and a picture of Jerusalem. There's no simple way to explain it. It stands for one of the letters spelled out when binding the tefilin." She shrugged at Mai's confused look. "Like I said, it's not simple to explain, so be satisfied with that."

"All right… so tell me what purpose a mezuzah serves."

"Originally? It was meant to serve as a reminder. A reminder to love God." She pointed to the silver casing. "What's important isn't that piece of decorated metal. What's important is what's _inside._ The scroll inside is important. That's the mezuzah."

"The scroll inside?"

"Yep. Written on it are verses from the Tanakh—the Old Testament."

"What kind of verses?"

"Not what kind. Which ones. The Shema and the V'ahavta. The Shema is one of the most important blessings in Judaism, proclaiming our belief that there is only one God. And the V'ahavta is a reminder to love God and follow His commandments. The original purpose of the mezuzot was to remind people of this. Nowadays, it's almost like a good-luck charm; ward off evil, that sort of thing, because no one really remembers the original reason for them. So, if the mezuzot act as protection against what's outside, then nothing will get in—just like Ginger, Ofi, and Mako won't go near the lake. But we don't put a mezuzah on a bathroom's doorpost because of what we do in a bathroom. Other rooms like doors leading outside and bedroom doors, we put them there."

"So because a bathroom isn't necessarily a clean or sacred place…"

"Hole in one," Rosalie said. "What is it?" she asked, seeing the perplexed look on Mai's face.

"I wonder how the Wailing Woman figured that part out."

"My mother was Jewish," Rosalie said. "And she was very adamant that Alejandro and I learn the traditions."

"Is Chisato-san also Jewish?"

"Of course. Alejo would have been disowned marrying outside the faith. Those two met at a temple function. Love at first sight, I guess. Same for you and Lin?"

Mai scoffed. "Hardly." She patted Ginger on the head and received a slobber in return. "He actually hated me at one point."

Rosalie glanced at Mai's throat. "I think it's safe to say that's not true anymore."

Mai blushed, but offered a serene smile. Ginger paused in her romping and pricked up her ears before beginning to bark. When the doorbell rang, she darted inside and over to the door. Puzzled, Rosalie picked herself up and went inside. "Are you guys expecting someone else?"

"No, we're all here," Mai answered, perplexed. Then she recalled something that Chisato had said and wondered if that hadn't come true. They arrived at the door at the same time that Alejandro did. He scowled at Rosalie.

"It's probably the IDF to drag you back," he muttered.

She kicked him in the shin. "Don't be stupid! The IDF has better things to do! Like, oh, defending Israel?"

Another knock sounded on the door followed by the phrase, "Police, open up!"

Cursing, he unlocked the door and pulled it open, looking at the three men on his doorstep, puzzled.

"IDF my ass," Rosalie said smugly.

Alejandro glared at her before turning back to the officers. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"We're looking into a call of domestic dispute," one of them said.

_Hang on a second,_ Mai thought, her eyes going wide with surprise. _I __**know**__ that voice!_ She peered around Alejandro and Rosalie, confirming her suspicions. "Hirota-san?" she asked.

"Hello there, Taniyama-san. It's nice to see you again. It's been a while, hasn't it?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Yep, it has. What brings you of all people here? You're not still investigating Naru, are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"Not this time, no. Allow me to introduce two of my associates: detectives Genda and Masuda. We came to answer that call, but more importantly, we came to see you, Taniyama-san. We'll talk with you in a moment." He turned to the siblings and aimed a hard look at them. "Your neighbors, Takamoto-san, reported disturbance of the peace. Care to explain yourselves? And please be as detailed as possible."

_**Oh? Someone new? You should introduce me, as well!**_

_Eh?_ It was the first time Mai had ever heard Annabelle speak to her. Mai felt herself shoved to the wayside. _Oh, no you don't!_ she snarled, pushing back with all her might. _Don't you dare think you can just waltz in and do whatever you damn well please!_

In the end, Annabelle won. The officers were too busy questioning Alejandro and Rosalie to notice the peculiar smile that crossed Mai's face upon Annabelle's victory; they didn't notice Ginger's low-throated, threatening snarls, either.

"Hmm?" drawled a slow, thickly accented voice. "There are new people here. Seems a shame that I'm not introduced, as well."

Genda's eyes widened and Masuda took a step back. The number of people hadn't changed in the hall—just those three, but there was a new voice. Hirota looked at Mai, a hard frown on his features. The southern drawl had come from her. Annabelle looked up and studied the newcomers. "But none of you are him. What a pity. Still…" She shoved her way forward, grabbed Hirota's hand, and dragged him into the house. "I'm sure that _you_ won't mind dancing with me?"

_This… has to be what MacAllister was talking about when he mentioned the eyes. Those eyes don't belong to anyone alive,_ Genda thought, trying to process what he was seeing into reality. The eyes that studied the three detectives were lit with an insane, hungry light that caused goose bumps to crawl on Genda's skin. _Or anyone sane,_ he thought, suppressing a shiver with sheer will.

"Who are you?" Genda asked.

"Annabelle," she drawled in a sing-song voice. "I'm Annabelle." She turned to Genda, held out her hand, and smiled. "Come dance with me."

Before any of them could answer, another familiar voice spoke. "Hirota-san? What's happening?"

Hirota glared at the young man that made his way to the small crowd. "Shibuya-san. So nice to see you again. I see you're taking great care of your employees like normal. She's a bit off in the head, isn't she?" he asked, pointing to Mai.

"She's possessed," he corrected. "You've seen this before."

"Excuse me," a new voice said. "Is… this a bad time?"

"Father?"

"Daddy?"

Pandemonium broke out.

Masuda would never forget how the young man, Shibuya, managed to restore order. Just a word, the tone of his voice, and his cold, cold, eyes.

"Quiet!" the young ghost hunter snapped.

"You're not him, either."

Naru looked over at Mai. "Of course I'm not. I could find 'him' if you told me his name. However, I don't think you really _need_ that much help, do you, Annabelle-san?"

She stayed silent for a few moments. "Promise me."

"Why are promises so important to you, Annabelle?"

"Promise me you won't leave me."

"None of us are going to promise you anything," Lin said, looking at the ghost possessing Mai with something akin to pity.

Annabelle frowned at that voice. That man—why was he always there when she decided to show up? Despite her host's struggle, she eventually managed to find the answer. He was paying her court. _It's called dating now, old timer,_ Mai grumbled. _And don't just raid! You could ask!_

Annabelle ignored her. "Why, if it isn't Mr. Brute!"

"Can't say it's a pleasure to see you again," Lin answered.

Naru sighed. "Matsuzaki-san, the schichi-baku, please."

"Sure."

_And what is that, host?_ Annabelle asked, watching the other woman approach. She frowned when her host didn't answer. Before she could begin to search her host's mind for the answer, the woman started talking and waving her fingers in a simple, but confusing pattern. To Annabelle, it had no rhyme or reason. Reason or not, it had an effect. Something encircled her borrowed body and seemed to tie itself to the floor, tightly. Annabelle couldn't move, no matter which way she tried. _Damn them! That was awfully sneaky._

_**You pushed them to it.**_

"Now Annabelle-san, seeing as you're unable to move, perhaps you'll answer some questions for us?"

Mai's eyes glittered. Naru pulled out a tape recorder and turned it on. He continued, unperturbed. "Whom are you searching for?"

Annabelle didn't answer. "If…I could remember, would you promise to help me?"

"So you can't remember who the person is. Why are promises so important to you, Annabelle-san?"

"Because no one's _ever_ kept a promise to me. Not my parents, my siblings, no one. Even _he_ betrayed me."

"And your victims?" Naru asked evenly.

"They failed. They promised and they failed. Should I reward that?"

"Spoken like a spoiled child," Naru sighed.

"You have no rights to talk," Lin muttered.

Naru glared at his assistant briefly before turning back to Annabelle. "Why do you try to coerce people into dancing?"

A small smile spread across Mai's face. "Because I like to dance and I am a very good dancer."

"And 'he' has what to do with it?"

Annabelle stayed silent.

_So, that was as far as she would divulge,_ Naru thought frustrated.

"Does the name 'Baker's Field' mean anything to you?" Lin asked.

Tears filled Mai's eyes, telling them that Lin had hit upon something significant. "He… that's where he was born."

"Where?" Lin asked, taking a step forward. "Where is Baker's Field?"

Annabelle tried to move back, but her host's body was frozen. Belatedly, she realized that she'd been immobilized. She watched him approach warily. She looked around to see if there was anyone who would stop the man from approaching her. There was no help from the small crowd. She shook her host's head. "You certainly are a brutish person. I've no clue at all what she sees in you."

"I couldn't give a damn what you think of me," Lin responded.

Mai's eyes went wide. "Such language! Is this how a gentleman talks to a lady?"

"Lin!" Naru said sharply, when objects began to rattle. Lin took a cursory glance around and fell silent, glaring at Annabelle.

"Thank you, kind sir. Why are you not with the young lady? You're much kinder."

"No, I'm not," Naru said bluntly. "What is Samuel McLaughlin using you for?"

"That boy," she sneered. "A relation of mine, I suppose, though why he wasn't drowned at birth I'll never know."

"Annabelle-san."

"I… am not sure," she confessed. "I am tired of answering your questions, boy. I think it's time I take my leave, now. "Mr. Brute, let me make one thing clear." Gesturing to Mai's body, she continued. "Getting beneath her skirts will not get rid of _me._"

"Let me also tell you that 'getting beneath a possessed person's skirts' rarely works to rid them of their parasites," Lin responded unperturbed.

Annabelle glared at Lin before retreating from her host's mind. _Such a rude fellow, my host. Why do you bother with him?_

Mai felt herself shoved back; Ayako's wards disappeared and she slipped to the ground in a faint. Takigawa darted forward and caught her. "Like old times, eh?" he asked, looking up at Lin as he approached.

Lin gave him a puzzled glance. Shaking his head, he scooped Mai into his arms and turned to the rest of the group. "As soon as she's awake, we'll join you."

That said, he swept out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Rosalie demanded.

"I think we'd all like to know," Hirota said, looking at Naru.

Stopping the recorder, Naru met his gaze. "Didn't I say before? She was possessed."

"How is that connected to Samuel McLaughlin-san?" Genda asked.

Naru's stormy blue eyes narrowed. "I'm not yet sure. But I'll definitely find out. In the meantime… Hernando-san, I believe you have some crucial information for us?"

………

It didn't take Mai long to wake up. When she did, she found herself once again cradled in Lin's arms. "Koujo?" she rasped.

"Yes. How are you?" he asked.

Mai took a moment to take stock. "Tired, but not as tired as the last time she possessed me."

"Her chosen partners declined dancing with her. Shame, no?"

She smiled weakly. "Very sad. Ayako immobilized me. That startled her; she wasn't sure what to do when she couldn't move my body."

"That's something to use sparingly then and only in emergencies. She'll find a way to break it if we use it too much, I'm sure."

"She spoke to me," the brunette commented right out of the blue.

"Pardon?" Lin asked.

"Annabelle. Just before she possessed me, she spoke to me. She said that if there was someone new, she should be introduced. She shoved forward after that." Mai frowned thoughtfully. "I spoke to her when she asked about Ayako's binding."

"That's surprising," Lin commented, his face mirroring his words. "I think she's more communicative than McLaughlin is. She might actually remember more than she claims. Do you think you can talk to her again?"

"Like I do with Gene?"

"Similar, yes. Do you think you'd be able to initiate contact?"

"I'll try."

"If you can, that brings us closer to getting useful information. It's unlikely McLaughlin will ever cave and tell us what we want to know. So we'll have to get it another way."

"I agree." She fell silent. "How did Naru know that something was going on?"

"Besides Rosalie-san yelling at her brother? Hara-san said that she sensed a spirit that wasn't Maria Carmen."

Mai nodded.

"Speaking of Maria Carmen— I told Naru we'd join the rest of the crew when you were awake."

Mai sighed.

"You don't feel up to it?"

"It's not that," she told him.

"Then?"

She shook her head. "No rest for the weary, I suppose."

Mai eased herself out of Lin's arms and stood up. Immediately, a dizzy spell spilled through her and made her stumble. Lin reached out to steady her.

"Whoa. Easy now—take it slowly," he commanded, easing her back down to the bed. "Head between your knees and deep breaths."

Too disoriented to argue, she did as he said, smiling faintly when his palm stroked her back soothingly. Presently, the dizziness and nausea passed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, when she looked up.

She didn't answer. Her fingers found the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her, fusing their mouths together. Surprised at her sudden bout of strength, Lin slapped his hands on either side of her. He wouldn't risk his control slipping like that again. When her tongue ran over his bottom lip, he nearly broke the kiss in shock. She was definitely doing her best to make him snap, he decided, granting her the entrance she sought. As the kiss deepened, his arms closed around her and pulled her closer. He groaned lightly at the contact. His control was starting to slip again. As if she were aware of this, she eased back.

"And what was that for?" he asked, slightly breathless, and though he'd never admit it to any soul, slightly disoriented when the kiss suddenly ended. Mai framed his face with her hands and lightly stroked his cheekbones.

"Me," she answered. "I think… I needed to prove to myself that she wasn't in control of me." She licked her lips and looked up, meeting his piercing gaze. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. And he did. Covering one hand on his cheek, he gently removed the other and brought it to his mouth. Not removing his eyes from hers, he kissed the inside of her wrist, right over the veins and felt her pulse begin to thrum.

"You felt that," he stated softly.

She nodded her mouth dry.

"And you feel this," he said, placing that same hand over his heart. She blinked and looked at her fingers as a steady, but rapid bu-bump vibrated through her hand and up her arm. Fascinated, she tilted her head to the side and spread her fingers wide. His heart began to beat faster at her simple action. Covering her hand with his, Lin laced his fingers within hers. He leaned forward just a bit. "If she were in control, none of this would have any meaning. Let's wrap this case up. Then, we'll focus on getting that bothersome belle out of you."

They met everyone in the living room. Naru started a tape recorder and a video camera. Looking at Hernando, he said, "The floor belongs to you. Tell us what happened to Maria Carmen."

Hernando took a deep breath. "Let me start by saying that our marriage had been going downhill for quite a while," he began.

………

Mai sipped at the hot cocoa, feeling its warmth trickle down her throat, but failing to spread to the rest of her. She huddled inside Koujo's blazer and wrapped it around her slim frame, hoping that the heavy material and hot chocolate combined would warm her. Thus far, neither remedy was helping. Tendrils of icy lead radiated from her stomach, licking at veins, muscles, and the rest of her. She shivered and tried to divert her attention to something other than the waterlogged corpse of Hernando Takamoto.

Taking a larger gulp, Mai looked over at Hirota and was glad for his presence. This was what he specialized in. She looked back at the corpse that was covered with a tarp and shook her head sadly. His wasn't the first death she'd seen as a result of malicious spirits and likely, it wouldn't be the last, either, if she kept to this line of work. Still, it always saddened her for the family that was left behind. The story he'd told, however, was one of the darkest she'd heard.

His marriage going downhill, Hernando had taken the opportunity to leave for a bit and go to an uncle's funeral. What was supposed to be a cool-down period turned to a passionate five-day affair with his current wife… and an impromptu marriage. Upon learning that her husband was already married when he'd married _her_, Mercedes had leapt from the couch and slapped him soundly across the face. No one could blame her. Finding out that she was guilty of bigamy was a massive shock—especially since he'd assured her that he was already divorced. Maria Carmen had also slapped him upon learning about his deception.

One thing that was absolutely true was how much Hernando had loved his children. He'd decided to take them with him when he left Maria Carmen and filed for divorce. Carmen, on the other hand, had other ideas. She'd left during a monsoon with the children, trying to get out of Tucson and to Phoenix. Instead, she'd miscalculated and drove into a sign when she drove into the rapidly filling wash. That had been her doom. The children, however, had somehow made it out alive. They'd gone to a local restaurant and called their grandparents to pick them up, just like their mother had taught them to do if they were ever in a pinch. Alejandro and Rosalie had confirmed this.

Sometime during his tale, Maria Carmen had appeared. She'd announced her presence by sending murky, brackish water through the living room, all of it concentrated on knocking him to the ground. Soaking wet, but likely at ease with himself, Hernando had offered her heartfelt apologies for his crimes, but it hardly placated her. Instead, it brought out pent-up rage and recognition on Maria Carmen's part. She'd recognized her husband and that had been his death warrant, signed, sealed, and delivered while she took him to her watery grave. John, Bou-san, Ayako, and Lin hadn't been able to step in to do anything, either. Mai doubted that anything would have worked, however, when she began to drown him.

And wasn't that the kicker? Mai thought to herself. He was completely at ease with dying. He'd looked… resigned was the best word for it, she decided. It was as if he knew that coming to Japan at the behest of his son would lead to his death. She was happy for him that he'd managed to tell his children and wife a last good-bye and 'I love you.' She looked over at Mercedes sympathetically. Cheated wife number two sat on the couch and stared at nothing; her eyes were glassy and unfocused, tears trailed down her cheeks. What now? Mai wondered. What would she do now that her husband was dead? Would she return to the states and wither, or try to pick up the pieces of her life and go on? Maybe find a new husband? Would her step-children help her? Mai certainly hoped so. She discarded the cocoa and sighed. She peered up curiously when detective Genda sat down beside her. He clasped his hands in front of him and stayed silent for a moment. Mai wondered how many dead bodies _he'd_ seen. Then again, she really didn't want to know.

"How are you?" he asked finally.

"Cold," she said honestly. "It's surreal; it's not the first time I've seen people die because of ghosts, but no matter what, it doesn't change the strangeness of it all. Then again, you've seen more dead bodies than I have."

"More than I'd have liked and usually attributed to normal circumstances, however."

"Normal is a very funny euphemism sometimes."

"Isn't it just?" he asked. "Taniyama-san, the three of us originally came to speak with you. Answering the domestic disturbance here was just an added bonus, if you will."

Mai looked at Hernando's corpse and frowned. "I don't think bonus is the right word."

"No," he said thoughtfully, "it's not."

"Hirota-san did mention that you wished to speak with me. Might as well do so now, while you have the time."

"All right," he said, nodding and taking out a small notebook. "Tell me what McLaughlin had to do with the earlier incident."

"Earlier incident… ah, you mean Annabelle. You might say she's a resident of his Civil War collection who likes to possess people. You know, it occurs to me that you asked and you shouldn't be surprised considering that you've met her," Mai said, when she saw the faint disbelief on his face.

"You're right," he said, breathing out slowly. All right, why you this time?"

Mai scrunched her brow. "Because I have potential."

"Potential for?"

"Ending her suffering. That's what motivated her to possess her other victims, too."

"Other victims? There are more of you all? How many are we talking about?"

"Only one at a given time." Her eyes went glassy. "First her Mother, then Marilou, the dancer." She stopped abruptly when she saw, clear as day, all the previous victims before her and saw their names. "Please write these names down," she said tersely. She began to speak before he consented. "Mildred Hathenway, MaryLou Baglow, Theresa McFinnely…" On and on she went, until at last she said, "and me."

"You?" Genda asked, scribbling her name down and peering at her.

"Me. I'm a victim, too. She's inside of me and can possess me whenever she has the strength to. Can I have a copy of that for our own investigation?" she asked, pointing to the list.

Genda nodded and quickly made a copy of the names she'd mentioned, before handing her the original list.

"I'll wish you luck with your investigation, Taniyama-san. In the meantime, I'll go have a chat with McLaughlin."

"Why? He's not going to tell you anything."

"You were thinking of pressing charges, weren't you?"

"Gavin-san called you," Mai commented.

"That he did. What do you think, Taniyama-san?"

She considered for a second. "I think he needs to be taken down a notch or two," she said.

"I'm glad we agree. I can reach you where you work? Good. We'll be in touch," Genda said, standing as Lin made his way over to his girlfriend's side.

"Detective," he said, giving a short bow.

"Sir," Genda said, bowing back. "Taniyama-san. Good evening to you both." He looked at his watch and grimaced. "Make that morning. I'll reserve judgment on good or bad, however. Masuda!" he called, heading to the door.

Lin watched him go, nonplussed. Turning back to his girlfriend, he took the seat that Genda had vacated.

"The crying has stopped, hasn't it?"

"It has. But we're staying one more night just to be on the safe side."

"I bet the Takamotos will be glad to see us gone."

"No doubt," Lin agreed.

………

The next morning, the Takamotos found their guests hard at work dismantling and packing up equipment in the den. Mai noted that the family, aside from Mercedes, looked well rested and had a healthy glow about them. Before she could say anything however, Yuko beat her to it.

"You all look much better."

"We actually slept through the night!" Chisato exclaimed happily. "There was no crying, just like Shibuya-san said!"

Mai smiled. "Painful as it is to admit, Naru's always been correct."

Chiaki shot Mai a triumphant grin; the brunette stuck her tongue out in response.

"How can we ever repay this?"

"Ah… Lin'll get those details for you. This wasn't an especially difficult case."

"No. I'm assuming your situation will be more difficult and more close to home, right?" Chisato asked, looking at Mai with concern.

"Possibly." Handing her tools to Yuko, Mai approached Mercedes. "How are you?" she asked gently.

Mercedes sent her a weak smile. "I'm holding on. Barely, but I'm holding on."

Mai nodded sagely; it gave Mercedes the strangest feeling that the brunette girl knew exactly how she felt—as if she'd been there before. But she was far too young to know, Mercedes thought, wrapping her arms around her body and hugging herself, as if it would stop the aching pain in her heart. Looking into Mai's eyes, however, she realized that the young lady _did_ know, because grief didn't have an age bracket. She wilted; her arms dropped to her side and hung there limply. A sob rose in her throat and, try as she might, she couldn't hold it in; it escaped, a long and piercing wail. Her hands came up to cover her face as the sob wracked her body. Warm arms wrapped around her comfortingly. There were no words exchanged, or soothing sounds, Mai simply held the grieving widow until she pulled away. Wiping her eyes, Mercedes aimed a small, but genuine smile at Mai—the first one since her husband had received his son's phone call. It had only been four days, but it already felt like a lifetime ago.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No need," Mai said, shaking her head. "What plans do you have?"

Mercedes looked at Alejandro, Rosalie, and Chisato. "My step-children have convinced me to stay here for a while. Rosalie's made arrangements with her kibbutz to have her stuff shipped here."

Rosalie nodded in confirmation. "I think it's best if I'm here right now, with family. Daddy's death…" She cut herself off and smiled wanly. "I didn't have the conflicts with daddy that Alejo did. But…we never really got to know our step-mother because our grandparents had custody of us after our mother died. All hail wills, I suppose. So I'll stay here for a while, too."

Mai grinned at Alejandro's long-suffering sigh that seemed to ask where peace and quiet had gone. She turned back to Mercedes.

"I'll go back to Arizona when I'm ready and sort things out as best I can."

"That sounds like a good plan, both of you. Be sure you take the time to sight see. I don't recommend the Civil War exhibit at the Tokyo Museum."

Mercedes crinkled her nose. "I've seen it. Too ostentatious for me."

"Good."

"Oh! The hot springs! You have to go to the hot springs! Nothing better for a pick-me-up!" Yuko crowed.

"Takahashi-san! Mai! Chiaki! Do I pay you all to stand around?" an irate voice interrupted.

Their backs stiffened and their merriment died; their heads bowed forward like naughty children caught with their hands in the forbidden cookie jar. Then they peeked at each other and started to laugh. Naru watched them, honestly perplexed. He stared at Chiaki, who was bent at the waist and clutching her stomach as she chortled with Mai and Yuko about God knew what.

"I guess I do," he muttered, seeing that they weren't going to stop anytime soon. Shaking his head in bemusement, he walked off. In the hall, he encountered Bou-san, who had paused in his task of dismantling the camera and was listening to the laughter that floated out of the den.

He looked at Naru. "It's a nice sound, isn't it?"

The young ghost hunter paused momentarily. "It is," he said honestly. "But I don't pay you to stand around and eavesdrop! Get back to work!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Bou-san said lazily, throwing him a mock salute.

Rolling his eyes, Naru went to find Lin.

………

Madoka was not happy. She was tired, grumpy, and back in England it was well beyond bedtime. In America, however, it was mid-afternoon. It was a good thing that Lin was paying her back. After arriving, she'd taken a cab to a quaint bed and breakfast that she'd reserved a room with. Once in her room, she'd promptly dumped out the watery substance masquerading as tea that she'd gotten from one of the many kiosks in the airport; she watched it go down the drain thinking that she'd paid an arm and a leg for that disgusting cup of 'tea.' With a sigh, she stowed the suitcase and set up her laptop on the desk. Plugging it in, she booted it up. Pulling out the chair, she sat down and composed a quick note to Lin telling him of her arrival. She then brought up her information one last time and scanned it. She hoped that her quarry was there. If not, she was going to be supremely pissed off.

_I am woman, hear me roar,_ she thought, smiling faintly. She looked at the large, four-poster bed with its cheerful quilt and crème colored sheets forlornly. She promised herself that she would definitely make use of that bed with a decent cup of tea later—even if she had to make that tea herself. Powering down the computer, she locked it and picked up her purse. Darting into the bathroom, she freshened up just a bit and then headed downstairs again. Smiling at the girl running the desk, she said, "Could you call me a cab, dear?"

She arrived at her destination about twenty minutes later. Taking a bill from her purse, she handed it to the driver. "Keep the change," she told him, ignoring his surprised squawk. "But give me a receipt," she ordered.

She knew she'd tipped him too much, but then again, she was getting reimbursed. Might as well make the most of it, she decided. If nothing else, maybe she could get Lin with cab fares. Then she rolled her eyes. No matter how much she spent in America, it would hardly put a dent in that massive fortune of his. Her phone beeped at her telling her she had a message. Pulling it out, she looked at the short text and felt herself fume. It was from Lin—they were back in Shibuya, the case in Hiiro solved. She'd receive the details via email later when he typed them up. That was standard. What made her frown was the postscript. _P.S. please see if you can locate a simple silver bracelet. I'm going to make a charm for Mai—one that will hopefully keep Annabelle at bay._

_And why, _she thought scornfully, _can't you do it? Men._ Her ire left her just as suddenly as it came and she deflated. Quite likely, he didn't' want to leave Mai's side—even for a few hours. From what she'd heard of Annabelle, she came and went when she wanted to. And like most ghosts, she was sure that the belle took over by force. She didn't blame Lin for not wanting to get the bracelet himself; he couldn't (or wouldn't) ask family because of the questions that he didn't want to answer right then, and asking someone from S.P.R. was sure to have gossip floating around. Not to mention, shipping fees would be horrible. Well, they wouldn't be pretty here. But if she found something and sent it expedited… not only would she be reimbursed, but Mai could have a functional charm sooner rather than later. That, and he probably didn't have much of an eye for jewelry.

She quickly texted back. _Sure, no problem. Like I said, don't leave out __**any**__ details._

Shoving the phone back into her purse, she straightened the cardigan that she was wearing over a peach colored blouse and walked into the building. She talked briefly with the young man at the desk and put her hand over the phone when he offered to call her quarry. "That's awfully thoughtful of you, but unnecessary. He's already expecting me," she lied.

Moving past the desk, she followed the directions she'd been given and found him in a relatively short amount of time. He sat hunched in an uncomfortable looking chair, reading a file with an intense look of concentration. _My, but wasn't he handsome,_ she thought, feeling a flutter. He seriously needed to work on being more aware. He didn't even look up when she approached his desk.

She cleared her throat softly and said, "Lieutenant Lee Chamberlin?" She smiled when he looked up and held her hand out to him. "My name is Madoka. I wonder if you'll allow me to take you out to lunch? I'd like to talk to you about something near and dear to your heart."

**A/N:** Okay, okay, I know this took a while and I'm sorry. I would like to thank the community Japan Fact Check on livejournal for patiently answering my questions. Amd I've recently found a new beta-reader! Please thank Eilara for her hard work and effort! I'll see you all in chapter six: First Date Jitters!


	6. Frightening Connections

**Chapter six:** Frightening Connections

Alternative title: First Date Jitters.

**A/N: **_I don't own Ghost Hunt or CSI: Miami. _I do own the original characters you've all met and will meet in this chapter—Jeffrey is not an OC. The police character detectives—aside for Miami-Dade, because they're from CSI: Miami, are OC's. They probably don't exist, but should they, please remember no infringement is intended. And say hello to Lee Chamberlin! I didn't quite expect him to have such a major part, but well, everyone knows that Kyia's characters don't necessarily go with the arranged flow of things. That being said, I'm just going with what I think the hotel I'm borrowing is like. If it's a true telling great, if not, I do heartily apologize.

Lee Chamberlin looked at the woman standing in front of his desk, her hand still held out, waiting for him to grasp it within his own. Warily, he propelled himself forward lightly, and gripped her hand, giving it a quick, but firm handshake. Letting go, he resettled himself in the uncomfortable, creaking piece of wood the department labeled as a chair and studied her. She was pretty—this Madoka Mori, he decided, taking in the light peach cardigan over a darker peach blouse and sensible black jeans. Not a young lady, but _a_ lady. There was an air about her—it was mysterious, he decided, it was powerful. This was someone who knew how to conduct herself no matter what the situation, and this was someone who knew how to get what she either wanted or needed without trying hard—manipulative, he decided. And he was betting she wielded that power with a ruthless efficiency; she'd gotten to his temporary desk without him hearing so much of a peep from Mack at the front desk—he hadn't gotten a call about a visitor, and he certainly hadn't been expecting her. It surprised him that she was nearly his height—he estimated her to be around five-seven, five-eight, taller if she wore heels. He couldn't rightly see without leaning over the desk and being obvious about it.

"Do you intend to simply sit there and stare at me?" she inquired, quite aware that he was appraising her with cop eyes and intuition.

"I might," he drawled. "Strange lady walks into a police station and asks me out to lunch, saying that she wants to talk to me about something…and I quote 'near and dear to my heart' is always cause for suspicion."

"I see," she said, her tone musing. She reached into her bag and Lee tensed, ready to spring if she got violent. Contrary to popular belief, there were crazy people who walked into police stations. But she only brought out a picture. Lee relaxed, slightly.

"Perhaps this might change your mind about that lunch invite," she commented, handing him the photograph.

He sucked in a harsh breath when he saw it. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.

Madoka didn't answer. She merely turned and started walking back to the doors she'd entered.

"Hey!" he called. "I asked you a question. Don't make me detain you!"

She stopped and turned back to him, placing one hand on her hip and tilting her head to the side. "Such an idle threat," she responded unimpressed. "I haven't broken any laws. What reason would you give for detainment, I wonder? And to a guest from another country no less? I'm going to lunch, Detective Lieutenant. I've had a very long flight from England to here and I find myself very hungry and in need of a good cup of tea. Are you going to join me? Or are you going to explain to your higher ups why you detained a British citizen?"

_Oh, yes,_ he decided, absolutely intrigued by her. He shrugged. "Why the hell not. Just a moment," he said, opening the top drawer of the desk. He pulled out his badge and clipped it to his belt; pulling out his gun, he slid it into his shoulder holster. Picking up his sports coat, he pulled it on and followed her outside. They stepped from the stuffy police building, into the fresh breeze of spring. He pulled out his sunglasses and put them on, studying the trees as he did. Summer was coming soon; it was becoming extremely humid.

"Gonna be a long summer," he drawled.

"Pardon?"

He gestured to the air. "It's getting humid. England doesn't have humidity?"

Madoka stayed silent at that and headed towards the stairs. He followed right beside her. Before she could step down the first stair, he stopped her and gallantly offered her his arm.

"Why, thank you, good sir!" she teased, gripping the banister and hurrying on down.

He shrugged. "It was worth a shot," he said to himself as he followed in her wake. She was wearing heels of a sort, he noticed. A short, wide heel connected to boots that were as sensible as the rest of her outfit, but still adding a flair of fashion sense. He shook his head. What had brought her here? He thought of the photo and tried to make sense of it. Why should she care?

At the bottom of the stairs, he took her wrist gently. "This way," he said, leading her to the right. "There's a diner not too far away that's close and good."

As they walked, he brought out the picture again and said, "Want to tell me how you got this?" he asked.

"Wasn't hard," Madoka said, keeping her answer deliberately vague.

"So why come talk to me?" he asked, leading her down a secluded, shady street.

Madoka didn't answer immediately. Finally, "Because we're looking for answers, too. And it's imperative that we find them, no matter the cost," she finished, stuffing the picture back into her purse.

He led her inside the packed diner and she winced. It was noisy; this would hamper her ability to gather information. He took her arm again and leaned in close.

"Let's grab a table near the back," he murmured in her ear. "They'll leave us alone back there and it'll be quieter. This place caters to cops—they understand how it works."

Madoka only nodded and followed as he led her to a table. It was quieter, but not by much. The dull thump of glass and ceramic on cheap formica and the clink of steel against heavy stone plates still reached Madoka's ears, but the sounds of conversations had definitely muted.

"Hey, Loo, what's up? You get yourself a date, finally?"

He looked over to see Paul Sanderson, one of his detectives looking at him with a cheeky grin. Lee offered him a smirk. "Jealous?" he asked.

"Hell no, Loo. I have a wife, unlike you."

"And we all know Beth Marie would chop off specific body parts if you looked at anyone but her," his companion said. "Lieutenant, Ms," he said, nodding to Madoka. "What brings a lady like yourself to a police hangout like this?"

So Wade had noticed too, Lee thought. He'd thought as much. Sergeant Detective Wade Terrance noticed everything and observed everyone.

Madoka smiled brightly. "I'm here to pick his brain out," she responded.

Wade let out a hoot of laughter. "You do that, then. Loo, you take good care of her. Show her our famous southern hospitality."

"It's an interview," he said with exasperation. Sliding into the booth, he aimed a glare at them. "If you're done, get back to work."

"Sure, sure. Let's go, Sanders. Ms," he said, nodding to Madoka. "Lieutenant."

Madoka watched them go before sliding into the booth opposite of Lee. "He's suspicious of me," she said. "I think he suspects I'm up to no good."

Lee shrugged. "Wade's a good cop and an even better detective. He's the observer of that pair; Paul's the charmer. They make a fine team."

"No doubt," she responded, taking a menu and looking at it. "Well, since this is lunch, what do you suggest?"

"Fried chicken platter's a specialty and favorite. So's the chicken and waffles."

"Chicken and waffles?" she asked. And the American's thought English food was strange!

"Sure. It's a classic here in the Deep South."

She decided against the chicken and waffles. But the fried chicken platter looked tasty. She knew she should just stick with a salad… but this was the Deep South, famous for its hospitality and its food. With a mental shrug, she decided to enjoy her time in the South—the fried chicken platter it was.

"Why, Lieutenant! Look at this! Never thought I'd see the day you'd focus on something other than your work!"

"It's business, Maryanne," he said, his tone dry. "I'll have my usual. What about you?" he asked Madoka.

"The fried chicken platter, please."

"What do you want to drink with that, honey?" Maryanne asked.

"Iced tea?"

"Sweetened or unsweetened?"

"Sweetened."

"I'll be right back with that. Lee?"

"Coffee."

"Why'd I bother askin'?"

He shrugged in response. When Maryanne had left, he turned back to Madoka. "Before you start picking my brain, start from the beginning."

Madoka considered. "All right. I've told you my name. Madoka Mori. I work for the British Society of Psychic Research," she began and stopped at his skeptical sound. "What?" she asked.

"I'm just surprised. What does a psychic research company want with a Civil War collection?"

"Why does a homicide detective hold an interest in that same collection?" she countered.

"Can't say."

"You can and you might as well tell me. Your investigation and others were hushed up by a man with deep pockets, and nothing more," she said. She broke off when Maryanne returned with Lee's coffee and her iced tea. Along with the tea came a small plate of lemon and lime wedges. With the detective's coffee came a small dish of creamers. Smiling brightly, Maryanne informed them that their meals would be out shortly. Reaching for a lime wedge, Madoka squeezed the juice into her tea and grabbed a packet of sweetener.

"You're right," Lee told her, dumping three creamers into his coffee and stirring it. He took a sip and placed the coffee back down on the table. "It's deeply lined pockets that paid the mayor to tell me to back off." He frowned. "I've got at least five dead girls. All young ladies with the same M… same cause of death."

Madoka nodded, slightly annoyed that he thought she couldn't understand police talk. "The coroner said they danced to death, am I right?"

"That's what he concluded. Their bodies gave out. There was considerable damage in their knees, especially."

"None of those girls were used to dancing."

"That's right," he said, giving Maryanne an absentminded 'thanks' when she set his meal in front of him. He'd gotten the chicken and waffles, Madoka noted.

"Thank you," she said, when her lunch was set down. Three pieces of golden-fried chicken sat in front of her on a large platter. Arranged around it were four small bowls containing collard greens, macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, and cooked pears. It was piping hot, Madoka could see the steam rising from it, and it smelled absolutely heavenly. "_And_, all the girls were found with those specific dancing slippers on their feet. Funnily enough," she said, appreciating the look of utter shock on his face at her pronouncement, "the slippers looked like they'd never touched the ground."

Lee stared at her. Perhaps she was being serious about her interest in his former case.

"All right, your turn," he said, cutting into one of the big, fluffy Belgian waffles on his plate. "Tell me your interest in all of this. You said you work for a psychic research facility. What's _their_ interest in this? Five dead girls is five dead girls."

"Playing stupid is hardly your forte," Madoka said, sampling the collard greens first. "And you have five girls from this city. There are more. Every state that this collection has gone to has a body count, am I right? You needn't bother to deny it. I'd appreciate it greatly if you didn't waste my time trying. Contrary to what you think, we are serious in our work at the BSPR. And we don't give a fig about what your mayor or a Mr. Samuel McLaughlin has to offer monetarily. We have deeper pockets and even longer arms, if you'd like to play hardball.

"Five victims from here. Aldora had seven. Savannah, the same. Mobile, Alabama had three; Dothan Alabama, four. Brooksville Florida had a whopping eight. St. Petersburg Florida had the lowest and that was two. But the collection was only there for three days. And these are the recent ones from the tour this particular collection is on. Fact is, that this collection has a body count going back to the 1870's. My personal suspicion is that the count started at just after the Civil War ended. I told you," she said at his look of surprise, "we're not mucking around at the BSPR. We are actual researchers and investigators of the paranormal. We don't hold ritual chants or séances. Not unless we're trying to accomplish something. The BSPR—the original SPR—was established in 1882 by scholars from Cambridge who wanted to study the paranormal happenings that were reported, but never explained or investigated. Our interest in this particular case is personal. This collection premiered in Lancashire and Hampshire: three dead bodies a piece. Have you caught on yet?"

Lee nodded, meal forgotten. He looked at Madoka thoughtfully. "You said this was personal. What theories does your organization have?"

"There's something possessed in that collection. And that specter is possessing other people—namely your victims."

Her face was so serious that Lee couldn't even muster an amused snort.

"Go on."

"It's our branch in Japan that's the victim—or rather one of the associates. The reason we know she's possessed by whatever is part of that collection is we now have it on tape, plus eyewitness accounts. Does the name Annabelle ring any bells—pun not intended."

"Annabelle's a common enough name here," Lee said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I see."

"This associate of yours in Japan… dammit, just tell me everything you have."

"And what do I get for it?" she challenged.

"Copies of my files and my help."

"Copies are welcome. But weren't you told to back off?"

"I don't like that rat-bastard McLaughlin. He doesn't care about the kids that died after viewing his collection; he takes delight in it. Brings in more money for him. It's easy for him to play the sympathetic, confused owner on camera. But in real life? He relishes the fame and fortune. He won't even speak the families of the deceased and offer condolences. You remember the guy you met, Wade? Bethany Feeny was a victim. She was a good friend of Wade's daughter. The mayor told me to back off when I suggested that the Feeny's sue McLaughlin for their daughter's death."

"On what grounds?"

"I said negligence. Leah—Wade's daughter—told us that Bethany was different after they left the museum. She was despondent, cold—not her normal self. Three days later, she died. They found her in her room." Putting down his fork, Lee closed his eyes, recalling the hellish scene he and Wade had walked into. "Her room… saying it was a mess just isn't accurate. It was like a freak storm blew through her room. The curtains had been torn to pieces; coffee tables were over turned; furniture ruined. The wall units holding precious antiques and other little mementos were in pieces—literally, pieces. And the blood—there was so _much_ of it. She bled and bled and we didn't, no we _couldn't_ even fathom what caused the bleeding in the first place. The ME had no clue, either—there wasn't a mark on her. And—as you said—as a victim, she was found with the dancing slippers on. When we asked McLaughlin about it, he simply said that they'd been stolen from the museum the night before."

"But?" Madoka asked, watching him.

"Except… there was no record of such a thing. This is a museum we're talking about. They hold priceless collections and antiques all the time. Surely if someone tried to break in and steal something… they'd have failed due to the security system alone. Not to mention security guards. I checked with dispatch—no calls from the museum. No alarms went off. No reports of anything."

"So McLaughlin lied."

"In capital letters, scrawled in red," Lee agreed. He looked down at his hands that had clenched into fists while he'd told a slightly less grisly description of Bethany Feeny's room. "When I confronted him, the mayor then told me to back off. Election date was coming soon and he desperately wanted McLaughlin's support."

"Will the supposed new mayor allow you to finish investigating?"

"I'm hoping so. And hopefully before that goddamn collection comes back to American soil." He relaxed his hands and looked back at her. "Can you all solve it?" he asked.

She touched his hand and said nothing when his enveloped hers in a bruising grip. Finally, "I hope so. Because Mai's life is at stake."

Lee let go of her. "I really do want to be there and help, if at all possible."

Madoka tilted her head to one side and regarded him. "Can you do that?"

"I don't really have anything open right now and I've a fair amount of vacation time saved up. Yeah, I could swing a couple weeks." He gave her a charming grin. "And I hear that Japan is a nice place to visit."

"You'd be right. If you're sure you can get the vacation time, then I'll tell my superiors. I can't deny that you'd be useful."

They finished their lunches in silence. When the cheerful Maryanne brought their bill, Madoka snatched it before Lee could and stood. "It's my treat. I'll meet you outside in a few minutes," she said, pushing her leftovers to him. "If you'd hold onto that for me, however?" she asked, turning and striding over to the cash register.

Lee watched her go, mesmerized. He wondered what her co-workers were like. Were they as imposing and as proper? Were they wimps? He turned his thoughts to the current victim of McLaughlin's. Mai—that's what Madoka said her name was. It seemed like a simple name. What did it mean? Did her parents make it up? What did they think of their daughter being a victim? Speaking of the young lady in question, what was she like? Why was she the current victim? Did they have any answers? Shaking his head, he stood, collected the doggie bags, and made his way out the restaurant. He had no answers as of now. He'd just have to go with her to Japan and find out. The language barrier was going to be hell, he decided. He hoped Ms. Madoka could speak Japanese, because he couldn't. Not one word. True to her word, Madoka joined Lee outside a few minutes later. She filed the receipts carefully—she wouldn't ask Lin to reimburse her for the meal. That would be grossly unfair, she'd decided.

"When do you return to Japan?"

"Return? I don't know. When I have some solid answers, I suppose. Lin asked me to come here and investigate. And so I shall. Does McLaughlin have any siblings?"

"Sister and brother-in-law. You'll want to talk to her without a doubt. You never did give me any of your information other than the stuff I already knew."

"Not so. I told you she was possessed, did I not? That's basically all they have right now. They have a possessed co-worker and a lecherous McLaughlin, from what I've heard. They know the ghost's name: Annabelle. Beyond that, absolutely nothing. Hence why Lin asked me—well, bribed me more like it—to come here and look into things. You were the first I talked to because research led me to you, the primary investigator of the cases here. Tomorrow I'll contact the other detectives in the other states and speak with them. Hopefully they can tell me something. You're welcome to help me with that, too. Just make certain you bring your files, as well."

"You don't need to contact the other detectives for their files. I have them all. They collaborated with me, after all. Tell me where you're staying. I'll bring my notes to you and I'll get in contact with Sheena and set up an appointment to see her."

"Thank you," Madoka said. "Why don't you contact Mrs. Sheena now? The sooner I talk to her, the sooner I can go."

Lee chuckled. "You're not going to say anything about where you're staying, are you?" he drawled.

For an answer, Madoka smiled and handed him his phone. "You're a detective. Figure it out."

Smirking, he took the phone and started to dial.

…

Sheena DeLain lived in a lovely, two-story house, with a lovely daughter named Lisa—who was two years old. Madoka didn't envy the mother with her two-year-old; what an age! Madoka, however, found herself surprised by this; she'd expected Sheena DeLain to be like her brother. Instead, she was nothing like him. She'd greeted both of them with differing degrees of wariness. Her tone towards Madoka was slightly nicer than Lee.

"You came to talk to me about Sam, right?" she asked, bouncing her energetic child on her hip. "Figures," she muttered, when Madoka nodded. "Come on in," she said, turning back inside and putting her daughter down, who immediately bounced off into the hall. "Lisa," she said, warningly. "You leave those gates alone! Tea?" she asked, turning to Madoka and Lee.

"Oh, yes please," Madoka said, gratefully.

"Lee?" Sheena asked.

"Water's good. Thanks," he said.

Sheena led the way into the kitchen and gave Lee his water. For her and Madoka, she took out two mugs, put mint tea bags into them, and put the kettle on. As the water heated, Sheena brought out some fresh baked chocolate cookies and said warningly to her daughter who'd come racing into the kitchen, "Only two, Lisa Anne."

Lisa pouted, but took the two she was allowed. Madoka watched, impressed. Lisa really was a very obedient child! Madoka turned her attention to Sheena, watching the woman as she puttered around the kitchen. Part of it seemed like nerves, part of it seemed as if she was observing her guest. Lee, Madoka was sure, wasn't exactly something new and shiny; she was bored of him, if that analogy would work. Madoka, herself however, was assuredly something new.

Pouring the hot water, Sheena brought the mugs over. "I'm not sure what I can tell you," Sheena said, setting one mug in front of Madoka. "Sugar? Honey?" she asked.

"Honey," Madoka said, blowing on the hot liquid.

"I'm not sure what I can tell you about Sam," she corrected, handing the honey to the English woman and clasping her hands on the table. She frowned at Lee. "There's nothing new I can tell you, either."

"Ignore him for now," Madoka said. "I'm asking the questions."

"All right," Sheena said skeptically.

Madoka cut right to the chase. "My questions are going to be different. I work for the BSPR, Sheena. The British Society of Psychic Research. How long has Samuel been using your ancestor in his plans?"

Sheena stared. "What… are you talking about?" she asked.

"Your ancestor—Annabelle; I should say distant relation—you're not directly descended from her. She's been used for a while, hasn't she? How long since he's been using her? How long has she been used in general?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheena denied.

"Sheena," Madoka said, her voice lightly scolding. "Please don't try that. You have to know. There are lives at stake, here. Not just the current possessed young lady, but for anyone else who could be at risk. There have been so many victims already. You owe it to the past, current, and future victims to share what you know."

Sheena's shoulders drooped. "I was happy when I got away from my family, you know," she said, her voice wistful. "Too long," she commented, looking out the window. "Annabelle's been used for too long. My mother simply followed her father's footsteps; my dad was blissfully unaware of what she was doing, you know."

"Who was it that began using Annabelle?" Madoka asked, taking another sip of tea.

A strange smile spread on Sheena's face. "Her sister—my great grandmother," she announced. "Annabelle was reputed to be the more beautiful child. From what I know of the Hathenway's, there were five children: two boys and three girls. Annabelle was the middle child. The youngest, Mary Josephine was the prettiest of the three sisters, but she suffered an unfortunate accident, or so the records said. But the Father, Herbert Hathenway, kept a very close eye on his remaining children."

It didn't escape Madoka's notice of how distanced Sheena was when talking about her long-dead family memebers. "Whoever killed Mary Josephine must have been in the family," Madoka speculated. She peered at Sheena. "Do you think you're great grandmother had something to do with it?"

"I'd almost say it's probable. She's the one who told Annabelle that Benjamin Baker died at the battle of Peach Tree Creek."

Madoka sucked in a breath. "That's his name? You're sure?" she asked, when Sheena nodded.

"Of course I'm sure. His descendants don't live too far from here."

Madoka made a mental note to visit them and ask for their stories. "So he didn't die. But she did. According to Mai, Annabelle drowned."

"She shot herself," Sheena told her flatly.

"But she wasn't a good shot and the laudanum had taken an effect. She drowned after shooting herself."

Sheena stared at her in horror. "Even if that's true, how do you know?" she asked, her voice trembling. It was as if she saw something that Madoka kept under wraps, Lee thought, watching the parley carefully.

"Because that's part of what Mai can do; she can see that past in her dreams. I'll wager money that she's right. She is, isn't she? They pulled Annabelle out of the pond out back, didn't they? Wouldn't take a genius to know that she drowned instead."

Sheena shook her head.

"Why?" Madoka asked.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, picking up her daughter, when she ran into the kitchen.

"Why _use_ Annabelle? Why not let her rest in peace?"

That strange smile crossed her face again. "Because they needed money from what I understand; they'd borrowed a lot of money in those days and the South lost the war, even with England's support. Likely they needed the money; great-great grandpa Hathenway spent quite a lot to support the Confederacy. I wish I knew the details about that, but I don't. I never wanted to know. Samuel though, he wanted to know. So Mother told him."

"Sheena," Madoka said quietly.

"That's the God's honest truth. If I had to guess however, I'd say they turned Annabelle into a tourist attraction. Sounds flimsy, but I suppose whatever works."

"But?" Madoka persisted.

"_But_," she emphasized, "I _do_ have something that might be able to help you. Stay right here," Sheena said, picking up her daughter and taking her with her.

"How did you get information that fast?" Lee asked.

"I told you, I work for the BSPR and my questions were different. I don't care about what Annabelle's been doing specifically, I'm wondering how long she's been at it. And it sounds like since she died. That's a scary amount of victims to be right about it," she said, sighing. She focused on Sheena who re-entered the kitchen.

"Here," she said, handing Madoka a sheaf of papers. "Copies of both Annabelle's and Mildred's diaries. You can keep them. Maybe you'll find something that can help you."

Madoka looked at the sheaf of papers. "You're a treasure. Thank you, and on Mai's behalf, I give you another thank you." Picking up her mug, she drained it and placed it on the table. "Sorry to have disturbed you, but thanks for your time."

Lee nodded at Sheena and followed Madoka outside. "What now?" he asked.

"Now?" she queried, striding away from the house. "Now I go back to my hotel and read," she told him, brandishing the papers. "And no, you're not invited."

Lee wrinkled his nose. "Chick stuff, right? Don't worry, I'm gone; I don't nose around in that stuff."

"A good thing you don't. I've taken enough of your time today, Lieutenant. Thank you. Please let me know if you're able to take your vacation time." That said, she strode away.

Lee watched her go, mentally planning the trip in his mind. With a little bit of luck, he'd be able to catch some sight-seeing. If he had a lot of luck, Ms. Madoka would accompany him. He headed to the station, intent on putting in for vacation time when it occurred to him that he didn't have her cell phone number. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, his hand encountered a piece of paper. Since he couldn't recall stuffing anything other than his phone into his pocket, he pulled it out. It was from Mack's desk. Curious, he opened it and grinned. He'd gotten her phone number after all.

…

_Next day…_

Naru paced the common room of S.P.R. agitatedly; he'd been doing so for nearly ten minutes. Lin watched him with barely veiled amusement. The sorcerer could more or less guess just what was on his ward's mind but chose not to comment on it. If Naru felt that he needed advice, he'd ask. Of course, asking for advice and Naru really didn't fit well in a sentence. Finally sick of pacing, the young ghost hunter plunked himself down in his customary chair, and closed his eyes, a fierce scowl etched into his features. He heaved an explosive sigh and opened his stormy eyes. "Lin."

Ah, the moment he'd been waiting for. Lin was somewhat surprised that it had actually happened—and so soon into the day. "Hmm?"

Naru looked as if he'd rather swallow a poisonous frog than ask, but finally said, "What did you and Mai do on your first date?"

"We went to a matinee and had dinner after."

Naru nodded, oddly relieved—asking hadn't been so hard, after all. "Then that's what Chiaki and I will do."

Lin rolled his eyes. Even if what he'd said were true, he was certain that Kasai-san wouldn't like being a copycat. Especially on her first date with Naru. "Don't," he warned.

Oliver's brows drew down in a frown. "Why not?" he asked. To him, it sounded like a reasonable course of action for a first date.

Lin shook his head. "Your first date with Kasai-san shouldn't be a copy of what Mai and I did. First dates can be awkward. When Mai and I went on our first date, we were already comfortable with our relationship and each other." He aimed a piercing look at his associate. "You, however, are nervous and I wouldn't bother trying to deny it. Before you decide what your first date should be, you two should acquaint yourselves on a social level to dispel nerves. Yasuhara-san and Taka-san went to lunch for their first date."

Naru's expression became confused. "So… Chiaki and I should have lunch, instead? That's do-able."

"Or have coffee and cakes; or tea and cakes."

"Coffee? Tea? Cakes?" he asked, more bewildered by the second—a first for him, but then, so was dating.

"There's a café downstairs," Lin reminded him. Seeing his ward's befuddlement, he sighed. "Matsuzaki-san once told me that communication would be expected, in fact, it's essential in relationships. Before you two go on that first date, get comfortable with each other, first. Then you two can decide on what venue a first date should be. Kasai-san might not have a problem with the movies, but you loathe them. And you'd be disgruntled after if you went."

"I thought you didn't like movies, either," he said, steering the conversation away from himself.

"Not so. I've never minded a good film—emphasis on 'good.'"

"Point taken." The door opened, admitting Chiaki into the office and Naru felt his face go blank at the sight of her. She looked beautiful in a sky-blue sundress that showed off well-toned legs and arms. Her silvery hair fell down her back in a cascading sheet, two small butterfly clips just above her ears held it back. On her feet rested a pair of strappy sandals that used to baffle Naru—now, they didn't; they showed off a pair of delicate feet. Her jewelry was simple: a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a watch. A small, genuine smile curved his lips and he stood, approaching her. She smiled welcomingly at him. "Am I too early?" she asked.

"What? No. But…" he outlined what Lin had suggested they do and trailed off, noting the faint look of relief on her face. So she had been apprehensive or had a case of first-date jitters. The suggestion that they make the decision together had been a sound suggestion on the sorcerer's part.

"That's a wonderful idea. I like it."

"Then…shall we?" she asked.

"Yes. Lin—"

"Go," the older man commanded, cutting him off. He knew what Naru was going to say. "Take good care of him, Kasai-san."

She laughed and gently took his arm. It was relieving when he didn't stiffen up immediately upon contact. "I'll do my best," she promised. "Let's go." She led him out of the office. Naru followed, not once looking back and closed the door. Lin smiled hearing the voices of the new couple and wished them the best of luck. He shook his head. Now that his boss was done pacing and fretting, perhaps he could finish applying the spells to the bracelet that Madoka had sent him.

…

Madoka allowed the page to fall shut and leaned back on the headboard, still fighting against jet lag. She reached out for the cup and took a slow sip of coffee—a rare beverage for her to drink. But it had a good, strong jolt of caffeine that got her tired body out of bed and her bleary mind functioning on the diary pages. There was a lot that didn't make sense. And, she thought, ruffling the pages, some parts were missing. What was obvious to her was the fact that Annabelle had been head over heels in love with Benjamin Baker. From the tone about him, Madoka gathered that Annabelle would have defied her family to be with him. But was that enough? Her thoughts turned to the many-timed mentioned Benjamin Baker. What had happened to him if he didn't die in the battle of Peach Tree Creek?

Pulling her laptop closer, she brought up her browser and typed in Benjamin Baker—Georgia. She frowned at the multitude of results. None of them mentioned the soldier who died and she wasn't about to start searching through the broad possibilities that she might get lucky. She tried again, keeping the name and replacing 'Georgia' with Peach Tree Creek. Her frown turned vicious—too many results. Damn the internet, anyway! Taking a calming breath, she added the word battle to the end of Peach Tree Creek and finally got a hit. Sheena had been telling the truth—he still had descendents right in Georgia. But how did they know they were actually descended from the man in question? Bringing up another tab, she typed in the BSPR website and logged in, going straight to the link for resources. From there, she navigated to a genealogy website and entered the names of the people from the article she'd read, sat back again, and let her computer go to work.

She ignored the chime her computer played telling her she had new mail. She was on a partial roll. If Sheena had told her the truth and Benjamin Baker hadn't died in the battle of Peach Tree Creek, then why had Annabelle's family told her otherwise? What was the Baker family compared to the…she peered at her notes in the margins, the Hathenway family? Were the Bakers as well off as the Hathenways? Better than? Less? She didn't know. What she did know was that the diary held more questions than answers. The computer chimed again and she ignored it in favor of answering the door—which she'd expected to happen five minutes ago. So he'd paced and thought about it before knocking. Sliding off the bed, she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Why, detective! You found me at last!" she exclaimed, admitting him.

"You knew I would," he told her, holding up the paper with her cell phone. He stepped inside and glanced around. Perversely, seeing him step into her room sent a tiny thrill through her. _Oh, no._

"What are you up to?" he asked, nodding to her computer.

"Genealogy search."

"Why?"

"Benjamin Baker's descendents. Sheena said they lived here. Where, exactly?"

Lee shook his head. "You could have asked me."

"But then I don't find out for myself. There's still the fact that according to Annabelle, Benjamin died at the battle."

"That's why you're running a genealogy."

"Right. And if Benjamin didn't die, then why did her family go to great lengths to tell her otherwise?"

"I don't know."

"_If_ he was still alive after the battle, then I'm willing to bet it was lineage or prestige or even money."

"Okay… I'm confused."

"Did you know that the Hathenway family was nearly bankrupt after the war?" Madoka asked him.

"No… I didn't."

"But they bounced back very quickly."

"And your theory?"

"I think…Annabelle had a hand in it." Her brow wrinkled. "She was almost like a _kodoku_, if my reasoning is correct; _if_ her family decided to use her that way."

Lee shook his head. "What the hell's a kodoku?"

"An incredibly ancient curse. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they didn't use Annabelle like that." She shook her head—it just didn't work for her. No, the money had to come from marriage—but whose? But what about Annabelle? Where did she fit into the labyrinthine puzzle? Something Lin said struck her: tourism, the next body could be you! That had to be how the family exploited it. "They had to do something to draw people in…" A nasty thought occurred to her. She looked at him with clear brown eyes. "They put the shoes on display and allowed Annabelle to go to work. Whatever she's trying to find, they're capitalizing on it."

…

Chiaki waited patiently for the tea and cakes they'd ordered. All around her conversation sparkled, punctuated with giggles and laughter and she felt slightly put-out. Naru wasn't exactly known for his conversational skills and they had yet to start talking about anything. She liked him enormously—was half-way in love with him, but she absolutely needed to break the stifling silence that had descended over their table. But as of yet, he simply stared out the window; she imagined that he didn't hear the clink of plates and silverware. What bothered her most was all the attention he was attracting. Being tucked into a corner booth at a window hadn't helped matters, she thought, feeling self-conscious. Some of the girls admiring him were downright gorgeous; next to them, she felt plain. Suddenly, he turned to her, as if he'd grown bored of looking out the window.

"What should we talk about?" he queried, breaking the stifling silence between them. This was a date, after all, he remembered. And he recalled what Lin said about communication.

"Eh?" she asked, startled out of her musings. What he said finally registered and to her, it was about time. "Oh," she managed, when he looked at her expectantly. "Umm…" She wasn't sure what to start the conversation with. A dozen questions ran through her mind and she frantically tried to choose a suitable topic. "Well…how did you get into ghost hunting?" she asked. _There, that was a good enough subject to start with._ Little did she know that she wouldn't agree with her early assessment of the topic.

He tilted his head to the side as he contemplated her question. "I used to cause poltergeist activity," he told her matter-of-factly and nodded his thanks to the waiter for their order. "You've never read the book "Matilda" by Roald Dahl, have you?" he asked, pouring two cups of tea. "Same principle," he told her when she shook her head. "All that PK of mine had no training and more importantly, nowhere to go." He tapped his temple for emphasis. "But unlike Matilda from the book, my PK didn't disappear. At the same time, the dead were beginning to visit Eugene. Mainly dead children, but even they caused a ruckus." He returned his gaze to the sidewalk. "Our father, whoever he is, abandoned us and our mother died when Gene and me were very young.

"We were put into an orphanage in Massachusetts—we were born there, you know. American citizens by birth," he said, a small smile playing about his lips. It faded as he continued. "The orphanage we were in was disgusting to the point of being abusive," he told her, turning away from the street again and adding milk and sugar to his tea. "The couple that ran it couldn't have given two damns about the children—they were in it for the money that the state gave them and they spent more of it on themselves than the children in their care. Oh, they were extremely careful—we had food and water and clothes and beds, but that was it. And of course, they hated Gene and me." A cynical smile crossed his face; tears gathered at the bottom lids of her eyes as he told her the ghastly tale.

He took a sip of tea. "We capitalized on it and used our abilities against them. There were rumors that several children in their care had died. We proved that it wasn't a rumor after all—our first case, you could say. Unfortunately, for all of our efforts, the state decided to shut down that orphanage because kids had died and the authorities were desperately looking for foster homes for the children that were in the orphanage. For Gene and me, the problem was that most places had heard of us by now—the Terrible Twins, they called us. They considered splitting us up—but the mayhem that we caused at the orphanage just wasn't worth the hassle—after all, they didn't know what would happen if they split us up. But then, along came a couple from England—Martin and his wife, Luella, who saved the authorities the time and effort to try and locate a home for us when all the doors were closed. The Davis couple didn't ask questions—they simply decided to adopt us.

"It was a relief for the authorities, I'm sure. They didn't have to worry about us bringing the historic building we were in to its knees. Martin and Luella, for their part, took us back to England and our new father formally had us tested. That's how we met Lin, Madoka, and many others associated with the BSPR. The powers that be that ran the BSPR asked Lin to train Eugene and myself to control our powers. Once they were sure we could, Madoka showed the two of us how to use the cameras and we started to accompany her and various other psychics on their investigations. My father also taught me psychometry and I excelled at research." That small smile was back as he poured another cup. "Between Eugene and me, we made an unbeatable team, bringing to a close some of the most baffling cases."

"So… becoming a ghost hunter was a natural thing once you and Eugene got to England?" she asked. She wasn't sure how to respond to his story of the orphanage so she filed it away for a later time.

"A natural procession of events," he agreed.

"But your father is into Parapsychology, right? I don't think that's a recent hobby. Was it something that he developed after they adopted you two?"

"No, he'd had an interest in the occult and arcane long before he and Luella adopted us."

"So… if things were different—say your father was into Marine Biology—do you think that you'd have still become a ghost hunter?"

"Anything is possible," he told her. "I've never been one who sees the future. Well, now that we've gotten that depressing story out of the way, this pre-date of ours is supposed to allow us to decide what to do on our first date. What would you like to do?"

She smiled shyly. "This might surprise you, but I like museums."

The answer didn't surprise him, rather, it elated him. He checked his watch. It was still early yet. Tossing the rest of the tea in his cup back, he put some money for it on the table and stood, holding his hand out to her in a plain invitation for her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking at his outstretched fingers and then his face.

"I'm sure," he agreed, resolutely. "I can't isolate myself from touch; that's not fair to you."

She blinked at the sighs she'd heard and watched his face. He didn't show any sort of reaction to the sighs; he simply waited patiently for her. Snatching up her purse, she stood fluidly and took his hand. He didn't stiffen as she expected. His hand closed over hers and he began to lead her from the café. "Let's go to the Gotoh Planetarium and Astronomical Museum," she suggested.

He squeezed her hand briefly. "Let's. And let's grab some lunch afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

…

Samuel stood in the boarding room where the doors were located waiting for the plane that had just landed to eschew its passengers. He tapped his foot discordantly on the floor and peeked at his watch and then the door again. When tapping stopped doing any good, he began to pace agitatedly. He came to a halt when the doors opened and passengers began to pour forth. Samuel ignored most of them; he was looking for one person and one person only. Finally, that person appeared and he fought the urge to smile. Looking at his watch again, he crossed his arms and waited for the man to notice him.

"You're late." He frowned when the person joined his side.

The man heaved a sigh and rolled his enormous blue eyes heavenward. "Actually, I'm right on time. And I can't make the plane do things faster, Sam."

"Why not?"

The man shook his head. "Because contrary to your belief, money doesn't buy everything." It didn't buy a way to forget love, or sorrow, or grief, he told himself. He pushed the thought away, wondering if being in his late wife's country of birth had something to do with it. "What's the story?" he asked, already knowing he wasn't going to like it.

"A little of this and a little of that. Let's go to the hotel first and check you in."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I suppose that depends," Samuel drawled.

"On?" he asked warily.

"That exorbitant check I give you weekly, Jeffrey."

A very good point, he decided, going over to baggage claim.

…

The hotel fit his boss, Jeffrey decided. He came to a sudden halt before they got to the elevator. "I don't know about you, but I need some sort of sustenance. Let's have a drink and a chat," he suggested, pointing to the bar that was tucked into a corner of the lobby.

"Let's."

The bar itself had a dark atmosphere with its muted lighting. To some patrons, it would be soothing, Jeffrey supposed, taking a seat at the table that the hostess had shown them to and looking up at the dim bulb that offered their table some light. He looked around, seeing that the bar was sparsely populated. That didn't really surprise him—people who were sight-seeing weren't back yet and he assumed that work wasn't out yet. So what was their excuse, he wondered, looking at the three men that sat around a table, talking in quiet voices. Lunch break? Maybe. It didn't really matter, either. When their server came by, he ordered for both himself and his boss in rusty Japanese.

Samuel waited until their server had deposited the drinks and something to munch on to talk. When the waiter left, he leaned in close and began to talk. "Annabelle found another victim."

Yeah, Jeffrey knew he wasn't going to like this. For the most part, he tended to stay away from Samuel's business concerning Annabelle, but sometimes it didn't always work. If the police were ever allowed to investigate… hell wouldn't be far enough away for them, he knew. He had no idea what he'd do if Samuel was ever truly investigated. Jeffrey was as much a part of it as Samuel was. Worse, due to the papers he signed before beginning his job, he couldn't say anything to anyone. So he'd learned not to care when the media mentioned another victim found dead with the shoes. "So shouldn't you be jumping for joy?" he asked, sparing a glance at the three men that sat five tables away. Why he didn't know. Just a feeling that there was something… off about them.

"I'm not sure why I'm not."

Could it be, Jeffrey wondered. "Remorse?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Is it possible you're feeling remorse?"

Samuel shook his head, indicating that he had no clue. "Your guess is as good as mine." A heavy silence settled over the two and Samuel toyed with his glass listlessly, watching the dark amber liquid slosh dangerously close to the rim of the glass. A few droplets made it over and landed on his hand. "The thing is," he said suddenly, "that Annabelle's victims have always fit a pattern. They're usually loners with limited amounts of friends, sometimes they're anti-social kids. They don't usually have a future—often times they're orphans or runaways and for whatever reason they're always female. Why, I don't know. But the only thing that her current victim has in common with any of this is the fact that she's female.

"Okay," Jeffrey said, taking a sip of his rum and coke and feeling the small implosion of alcohol hitting his bloodstream. "So? Spit it out," he commanded impatiently.

Samuel shot him an annoyed look but continued. "This young lady is not a loner or an orphan. On top of all that, she's in college, has a job, has a boyfriend, a future," he said, stressing the last word. "So why did Annabelle choose _her_? On top of all that, Annabelle's been quite chatty with Mai."

"Mai?" Jeffrey asked, scratching his head contemplatively. "That's her name?"

Samuel nodded, taking a sip of scotch.

"Maybe Annabelle's sick of the others." He took another sip of his drink and popped some of the mixed nuts into his mouth, chewing slowly as he observed his boss. "You want me to look into her and find the connection—assuming it exists."

"Among other things, yes."

"Other things?" Jeffrey asked, taking another handful of nuts and popping them into his mouth a few at a time.

"I want to know about the company this girl works for—it's a research company, her boyfriend said," Samuel commented, a sardonic grin flashing on his face. "What kind of research do they do?"

"Okay." He could handle that.

"I also want to know about her boyfriend. His name is Lin; L-i-n."

Jeffrey dropped his head and groaned.

"What? What?" Samuel asked baffled.

Jeffrey held up his hands and ticked off reasons on his fingers. "A—that's his _last_ name. B—there are hundreds, if not thousands of Chinese people with that same family name."

"Ah—but how many Chinese people are here in Japan and speak English with an English accent?"

A speculative gleam entered into Jeffrey's eyes. That was a damn good piece of information, he thought grudgingly. "Not too many, I'm sure. The Chinese don't view the Japanese very favorably due to what they did during World War II and before it. I'm amazed he's even here, truth be told."

"I think he works with her, too. Find the company, find the man. Think you can do it?"

Jeffrey stretched his arms and grinned. "Piece of cake." He excelled at research. "But… why are you interested in him?"

"I'm interested in _her_. He's competition that has quite a head start on me."

"In other words, you want dirt."

A wolfish smile spread across his face. "You're damn right I do. Anything I can use to break them up and get her for myself."

Jeffrey shook his head, inwardly feeling sorry for this young lady. "Give me something I can work with."

His boss pulled his planner out and opened it. Reaching into the jacket pocket just inside the flap, he extracted a small card. "My translator told me this was like an identification card."

Curious, Jeffrey reached over and took the card, bringing it closer for inspection. His Japanese was rusty—very rusty, but the characters of her name weren't difficult he saw. Pretty name, he thought absently. Simple. "Give me a bit of time," he told the other man. "Speaking of translators…"

"Can you do it?" Samuel asked, gazing at his secretary with intense eyes.

The man shook his head and took another sip of his drink. "Too rusty." Kazuko wouldn't have problems, he thought with a pang. She'd taught their sons to speak her native tongue and him as well. Then she died, he thought bitterly, turning the card around and around absently.

"Thinking about her?" Samuel asked, taking another sip of his scotch. 'Her' was how Jeffrey referred to his deceased wife. Samuel wasn't sure why Jeff still cared after about seventeen years. He knew his secretary had left the house they'd had had shortly after she died. He'd heard that there were some people that loved deeply and loved only one. Was that Jeff? Did he still love her? Samuel wasn't sure, but he did know that the man hadn't bothered to try and help his twin sons. Was grief really that powerful? Again, Samuel didn't know, but to leave his sons behind…something had to explain it and grief to his mind was the best explanation he could think of. Did Jeff ever think about his sons, Samuel wondered. Not his business, he decided. Nor was he going to ask.

"Yeah," Jeffrey commented, the grief in his voice raw.

As if she'd died the other day, Samuel thought. "Guess I'll give Mr. Ogata a call tomorrow," he mused.

The other man blinked and cleared his throat. "Sounds like a plan," he said, tossing back the rest of his drink and standing. "I'm tired. I need to rest."

"Go," Samuel said, handing him the plastic key card. "Your room connects to mine. Five-oh-three. Your bags should have been delivered."

"Thanks."

Left alone, Samuel looked into his drink broodingly. He'd never known that kind of grief; he'd never had a relationship with any woman that serious. He tended to like flings, really, and casual sex. What was it like, he wondered, picking up the tumbler and taking another swallow. What was it like to love someone to the point of breaking? Perhaps if he could save Mai, he'd be able to know. But how did one stop a ghost who'd had a killing streak since the Civil War? Lifting the glass again, he drained it and stood, pulling out his wallet and credit card. Crossing to the bar, he paid for the drinks, the nuts, and left a generous tip. Looking at the men that still sat around the table, he caught the tawny-eyed man's gaze and nodded to him politely. Then he left, going over to the elevators.

The three men shared a look with each other and one pressed the stop button on the recording device.

"What do you think?" Masuda asked.

"We're on the right track," Genda said, draining the mineral water he'd ordered and standing. Pulling out his own wallet, he tossed some bills down and stalked out, Masuda hot on his heels.

The third—the tawny-eyed Hirota finished his coke and stood, adding the tip to the bills that sat there. Catching the bartender's eye, he gave a short bow, grabbed the device from under the table that the other two men were sitting at, and left to catch up to his companions. Genda was right; they were on the right track. And now, now it was time to start building a case—one that would lock the creep behind bars for many, many years. He smiled, a feral thing that had the desk associate shivering. Locking criminals away had a good feeling to it.

…

Ayako opened the heavy glass door to the Dolphin Café and noted with a sense of irony that the café was right below the S.P.R. office. She was willing to bet that thanks to S.P.R., business for the Dolphin Café was probably booming. She looked around and didn't see the idiotic monk; he hadn't arrived yet, so she grabbed a table right in the middle where he wouldn't be able to miss her. When the waitress came around to her, Ayako ordered a pot of tea and an iced coffee for Bou-san. She was fairly confident that he'd have ordered one anyhow; it was his favorite beverage.

Takigawa didn't keep her waiting long. And when she saw him enter the café, she raised a hand in greeting, calling his attention to her. She was inordinately pleased to see that he was alone. Now if she could only get him to find half a clue… _After all, it's not like I'm getting any younger._

"Hey," he greeted, smiling at her, stripping off his jacket, and taking a seat. Just as he did, the waitress reappeared with the caffeinated beverage he was so fond of and Ayako's tea. "Thanks," he said, perplexed. He turned back to her. "You ordered me an iced coffee?" he asked.

Ayako shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "I know you like it and you probably would have ordered it anyways. I just saved you a step."

"Well, thanks," he replied, looking touched. He reached out and grabbed a packet of sugar, dumping it into the glass.

A jolt of happiness sent her tingling. To cover the blush on her cheeks, she picked up her purse and pulled out her phone. "Your message said you wanted to talk," she began, bringing up the text message that had gotten her to the café in the first place. "I'm going to guess that it's not a friendly chat," she continued, giving him a frown.

He matched her frown. "Well, that's part of it," he said, his tone cool and his eyes cold.

"What is?" she wondered. Suddenly, she questioned the wisdom of choosing a table in the center of the restaurant. There was no place to hide.

"I invited you because I wanted to see you," he said plainly.

Ayako put her tea down before she dropped it. She'd wanted to hear that for so long… "Don't joke with me," she warned, staring at the tabletop. "I'm not forgiving like Mai."

He took a sip of iced coffee and studied her. How long was long enough, he wondered. They'd been on pins and needles around each other for a long time—never admitting their true feelings. But if Naru-bou could be honest, then maybe it was time for them to take a leaf out of his book. "Why would I joke?" he asked.

"Because you're you," she said, lamely. "The idiotic monk."

"I don't have tree spirits I can call upon, or PK, or Shikigami, but I'm no slouch." His voice was low and quiet, hurt, she decided.

"I know that," she said, her voice inaudible. "How long have you known?" she whispered, dread pooling in her stomach. He knew; he had to know. Damn Lin for spilling the beans.

Houshou took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. "Known that you liked me?"

"Yes!" she blustered, flushing fiercely. She ducked when curious gazes were sent her way.

Houshou smiled widely. Mission accomplished! "You just told me."

The priestess blinked. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You didn't know until just now?" she asked, leaning forward to peer closely into his eyes.

He stared back. "I didn't. I suspected," Houshou corrected.

"So no one spilled the beans."

"Not to me. Why? Did you tell someone?"

"Lin-san figured it out last year," she muttered, sitting back and crossing her arms. Her mother was right; she did tend to jump to conclusions. This wasn't how she was expecting this to go. _She_ was supposed to be the sophisticated and cool one; _he_ was supposed to be flustered party.

Takigawa tilted his head to the side and peered at her. "When did you and Lin have time to discuss your personal life?"

"Ah…umm."

"Ayako."

She deflated. He might as well learn the truth now than be surprised later. "Mai had just been admitted to the hospital—"

"That was a nice hospital they put her in," he interrupted.

"_They_ didn't put her there," she clarified. "Why choose that hospital when there was one right at her school's entrance?"

_That's right_, he thought. _But then… how did she get to that hospital?_ "I don't understand," he said. "They paid the bill; I saw the check that Naru wrote out."

"Those two paid part of it," Ayako corrected. "I footed the half."

"Still not getting it," he said. "I know you care a lot about Mai, but why would you do that?"

"Because I was the one that admitted her to that hospital. I figured it would be better for her to be there where we could keep a close eye on her."

Houshou shook his head. "Explain," he ordered. "That's a private hospital. How could you admit her there?"

"Because I'm her emergency contact and because my family owns that hospital. We were more than happy to cover the bill without anyone being the wiser, but Lin insisted that I give him half of the bill—Mai was their employee and this had happened as a result of a case that she'd been working on. Once we worked out the details, I asked him to stay a moment before going to see Mai."

"Why?"

"Because that was about the time that he formally asked Mai to become his girlfriend. I just wanted to give him some friendly pointers. So?" she asked. "Still enamored with me?"

A smile lit up his face. "Absolutely," he said. "In fact, my first order of business after making certain that you did or could like me was to cajole you into joining me for dinner."

Ayako smiled giddily. "Consider me cajoled."

"Second order of business," he said, all humor gone, "Annabelle."

…

Lin stabbed a potato with his chopsticks morosely.

"Is it that bad?" Mai asked, noticing. She had just been about to take a bite herself. Now she wasn't so sure she wanted to. It had smelled delicious when she was cooking it, but she couldn't guarantee the taste matched the smell, apparently.

"What?" he asked startled.

"My cooking." It had been her idea to have a home-cooked meal. She'd wanted to try what she'd learned in Home EC. And Lin was her guinea pig.

He shook his head, mentally kicking himself. Picking up the soup, he stirred it briefly with his chopsticks, and took a sip of the piping hot liquid. "It's very good," he told her. And it was. When they'd first met, he was sure she hadn't been able to cook a whit. She'd improved dramatically.

"Then?" she asked.

"Naru asked me for dating advice earlier today."

Mai tried to stifle her laughter and failed miserably. Lin waited patiently for her laughter to subside.

"How awkward," she said, still chuckling.

"Actually, I expected it. He really has no social-life."

"Hmm... I'll bet Eugene was the one that had the social life."

"That's true; Eugene was the most amiable of the two."

A sad silence settled over them. Mai cleared her throat, desperate to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. "What did he ask you?"

"He asked me what we did for our first date."

_Poor Chiaki._ "And?"

"I told him that we had went to a movie and had dinner, afterwards."

Mai blinked, confused. "Wait a moment- we went to a street festival in a neighboring town," she accused, pointing her chopsticks at him.

Lin smiled at her. "But he didn't need to know that, especially since he decided to copy what I said." He snagged the potato and popped it into his mouth and chewed, watching her with a lively, amused twinkle in his eyes.

"And knowing you, you told him not to, am I right?"

He swallowed. "Yes, I did. Matsuzaki-san once told me that communication was a vital need for all relationships- romantic or otherwise. I suggested that Naru and Chiaki go downstairs to the cafe and talk. First dates can be somewhat awkward if a prospective couple isn't sure what to do, or if they like each other enough to continue a date. Besides, it should be a decision that the couple makes together."

"I thought it was the guy who plans the first date," she teased. Lin had suggested going to the street festival in the next town, after all.

"But I asked you, first," he countered, reading her face perfectly. "I was more than happy to suggest, but you had to agree. I don't mind planning things, but I want your opinion, and vice-versa. That's how a relationship should be."

Mai smiled. "Ours definitely is that." She looked at him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked.

"You," she said simply. "You amaze me."

"Well... thanks. Anymore problems?" he asked, gesturing to her with his chopsticks and taking another potato.

Mai shook her head. "No. She's been quiet and it's worrying me. You?"

"I'm not the one possessed by a ghost from the American Civil War. Madoka's in America. She's trying to see what she can find about Annabelle and her lover was."

"Anything interesting yet?"

"She hasn't replied to emails," he said scowling.

_Likely not, then._ "Hmm."

"What is it?" he asked, noticing the pensive look on her face.

"I've been thinking of Annabelle-san's victims. And I keep thinking that there has to be something that connects them besides being female."

"I hate to say it, but that could be it. She's a ghost, darling. Rules don't necessarily apply."

She shook her head. "But that doesn't make sense. There has to be a reason," she stressed. "Eugene said she goes after people like _me._ What does that mean? Were they young _and_ female?" A nasty thought occurred to her and from the look on Lin's face, she could see that he'd reached the same conclusion. "Were they young, female, and gifted with E.S.P.?" she asked.

He put his chopsticks and soup down and pushed away from the table. "I don't know," he said tersely. "But it might stand to reason."

"We should have picked up on this sooner," she said sadly.

"We were a little preoccupied with Maria Carmen-san. Don't blame yourself. Think ahead, not back."

She stood, too, the meal forgotten. "If she targets people with abilities like mine, then that might just be why she asks for a promise when she possess people. What did she say to you about that?"

Lin thought back to his first meaning with Annabelle. "That no one ever keeps their promises- not even him."

"'Him' had to be her lover. She has unfinished business with him." Her lips compressed into a thin line. "I think we should relay this to Madoka."

"Agreed."

...

Lee stared at Madoka, not understanding. He just couldn't get his mind around it and it was causing his head to start pounding. There had to be some sort of method for acquiring victims—more than just putting the shoes on display! "Listen, I'm a homicide detective, there's got to be more to it than that!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands to his side.

"If we were dealing with a human being, then I'd agree with you one-hundred and ten percent. But Annabelle's not human, not any more. She doesn't remember being human, either."

All at once, the walls of the cheerful Bed and Breakfast room she was renting seemed to be closing in on him. Insane, he thought. He was going insane. What she was saying actually started making sense. And God knew that he hadn't found any other links. He smiled grimly. If this were a human, she wouldn't be here—she and her group, wherever they were, specialized in psychic phenomena.

"Are you done arguing with yourself?" she asked, looking up at him from her computer.

"For now," he agreed.

"Good." She ejected her thumb drive and grabbed her purse. "Then let's get started, shall we?"

"Started?"

Madoka gestured with her thumb drive. "Please remember that I came here primarily to investigate Annabelle and her victims. You're an added bonus because of the recent bodies. Mai and Lin were able to come up with a plausible explanation for just _how_ Annabelle chooses her victims. But I'd like to see if I can confirm this with a few questions to you and other investigators from other states. Can you set up a video conference?"

"I suppose I could, if you tell me before hand."

"You don't like surprises, do you?" She dropped her thumb drive into her purse.

"I'm a homicide detective. Surprises are the name of the game. How does she choose her victims?"

"E.S.P., Lieutenant. E.S.P."

…

Jeffrey scanned the information once again to make certain that he wasn't hallucinating. He'd done as his boss asked and he'd been quite successful, as he always was. He scratched his scalp and frowned into a mug of coffee. The information wasn't going to make Samuel happy at all, and he hadn't had enough sleep to deal with his boss's shenanigans so early in the morning. For just a moment, he entertained the idea of stalling on delivering this news to his boss. And knew that no matter what the scenario was, it wouldn't matter. He sighed. Better to bite the bullet and get it the hell over with. Especially since his boss had just strolled into his room.

"So?" The man's southern drawl made the solitary word more pronounced. "Have you found anything?"

"I have, yes. Firstly, in regards to Miss Taniyama, she is an orphan."

"She is?" Samuel asked surprised. She didn't strike him as an orphan and she didn't act like one, either.

"She is. But that's where her connection ends. Miss Taniyama is not a social loner from what I could find and she has plenty of friends. We could speculate that Annabelle might be branching herself out."

"We'll get back to that. Now… Mr. Lin?"

"I was able to track down the company. S.P.R. is a branch of the B.S.P.R.—the British Society of Psychic Research. Mr. Lin is from Hong Kong, originally, which makes sense. In his spare time, he's working on his Master's Degree at Oxford Trinity."

"That's a scant amount of information. Did you find enough to make him back away from Miss Mai?"

Jeffrey smiled grimly at his boss and took another gulp of coffee. "Oh, no," he answered. "Don't let yourself think he's some sort of starving student. He's not. And your money is paltry compared to his."

…

It was nearly noon and the day wasn't going to be over anytime soon, Lee knew. He sighed. He knew he should have forgone the extra few hours of sleep and packed instead. He'd been so certain that he'd have _time_ and sleep was such a rare and valued commodity. He wasn't certain he'd have the time to pack. Then again, he'd been known to exaggerate—he would have to make the time to pack, even if that meant flying out after her. He wasn't exactly obsessed enough with Ms. Mori to fly to Japan without having a small suitcase. He leaned his chair back and looked at her; they were using the conference room seeing as his office was still being renovated; it wasn't exactly private, but it was the best he could do. At least he'd only gotten odd, questioning glances from his people if they saw him with her. She was currently on a Skype conference call with officers of the states that held recent body counts. And it sounded like she'd run into a road block. He tipped his chair back against the wall and watched her features morph into a frustrated look.

"I'm not looking for details of the bodies or deaths," she told them. "I'm simply curious—there's no point in denying that no young men have died, only young ladies. They seem to be in high school so that gives me an age bracket, but what I want to know is anything about them besides the aforementioned facts."

"What exactly do you mean by that, Ms. Mori?" Sergeant Jenie Barres of the Dothan Police Department asked.

"Their lives," Madoka clarified. "Rumors, facts, anything. I know you all had to talk to the friends of those girls, what few they probably had."

"You're profiling something. But you state that you don't work for a police department," said Detective Keith Armstrong from the St. Petersburg P.D.

"I don't," Madoka replied. But Detective Armstrong was right: she was definitely profiling something—if it could be called profiling. Could ghosts be profiled, she wondered.

"Then, I'm afraid we can't tell you anything, Ms. Mori," this statement from Horatio Caine of Miami-Dade.

Patience, she reminded herself. She took a breath and frowned at him. "Let me reassure you that I'm not looking for information regarding your investigation, Lieutenant Caine—or any of your investigations," she said, including the other detectives. "I simply want to know what else these girls had in common besides being female and loners."

"But that's still relevant to our investigations— it's a lead we're looking into."

"Then lets help each other, shall we, Ms. Duquesne?" Madoka said, not registering what she'd done and missing the surprised look that crossed over the blonde's face. "These young women may not have been popular, but they had a few close friends. What I want to know is what those friends said about the young ladies that died."

"How did you know my name?" Calliegh demanded. "Lieutenant Caine never told you any of our names, so how did you know?"

_Damnation,_ Madoka thought, watching the pretty blonde from the Miami-Dade area with a measuring look. _Damnation, damnation, damnation._ She hadn't meant for that to happen; she guessed frustration had gotten to her, after all. She understood the point of view from the detectives, but frankly, they were more trying than Oliver was. Of course, Oliver was only one person. There were more than twenty detectives on a conference chat with her. "If I answer your question, will you consider telling me what I want to know?" she asked.

"It'll be a start," Calleigh said.

"Very well. What do you all know about the British Society of Psychic Research?" Madoka asked, clasping her hands together and settling on the desk.

"Not a thing," Detective Armstrong answered.

"It's the original S.P.R. It was founded in 1882 by distinguished Cambridge scholars who were pioneers in the field of Psychic Research. Still are, as it were. They do, however, ask that anyone who wants to work for them—with them— have something to contribute." A small smile played about her lips. "I don't often tell people what I can do, but seeing as I've already slipped, I might as well. I'm cognitive and post-cognitive. I'm not too shabby at psychometry, either. Psychometry," she clarified before they asked, "is the ability to touch an object and tell a person everything and anything about it, not just how it was made or who made it, but who handled it last and what they did with it. I'm also inordinately good at research. Have I satisfied your curiosity?"

"For now."

"Thank you, Ms. Duquesne." She picked up her list. "Let's get started, now that we've gotten that out of the way. Who was the first victim outside of Georgia?"

"Amber Rodriguez," Jenie Barres said, consulting her notes. A picture appeared for all the assembled people to see. She was a pretty thing, Madoka mused. Killer smile and lots of beautiful brown hair. "She was pretty much a loner; she didn't really get along with her parents who couldn't wait until she was eighteen so they could get rid of her, but what few friends she did have admitted that she was a bit… strange."

Madoka's interest piqued. "Strange, how?" she asked.

"Just strange," Jenie said, shrugging. To Madoka, it said that the statement wasn't all that important.

"They had to have said more," she prompted. "Anything at all that any of you can remember. I don't care how stupid you think it might sound, it might be relevant."

Jenie sighed and rotated her shoulders. "Her closest friends said that Amber had a habit of talking to what they thought were imaginary friends."

Upon hearing that, Madoka's eyes went impossibly wide and Lee settled his chair down, readying himself.

_No way,_ she thought.

"Happy now?" Jenie asked.

_She goes after mediums, doesn't she? It's more than just E.S.P. That's the side benefit; she wants mediums. But why?_ No, her being a curse of sorts didn't fit, period. She was glad to have a theory to revise. But what was she looking for that allowed the family to capitalize on her? "How many of you also heard that from friends of the victims?" Madoka asked slowly, her eyes thoughtful and far away as she wrestled with this new information.

"I got virtually the same," Lieutenant Caine answered, peering at the video window that connected him to the other detectives and Madoka. "But one young man said that Theresa—Theresa Armstrong—could talk to the dead."

_So I'm right, _she thought bitterly. _The question is why._ She had a strong feeling that the answer was with Benjamin Baker.

"Ms. Mori?"

She snapped back at Lieutenant Caine's voice. She'd been silent for too long, hadn't she? From the look on his face, she concluded that she had. "Yes, sorry. I was just… thinking." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "I do have other questions, if you all don't mind."

"Ask away."

"Did the victims share anything in common physically?"

The detectives including Lee shook their heads simultaneously. "Nope—nothing," Lee said. "Varying heights, weights, hair, skin tone, eyes, race, it wasn't discerning, whatever it was—that's what puzzled most of us," he said, keeping quiet that he'd heard her say it was a ghost.

"Same here in Dothan."

"Miami-Dade, too. And before you ask, Ms. Mori, there is no pattern, either."

_No, of course not. E.S.P. doesn't have patterns for people, although sometimes it's hereditary. But they __**were**__ all young. And female. There's a reason for that, if nothing else._ "Moving on, then. Let me clarify, if I may. All the victims were found wearing those shoes from the Civil War exhibition, correct?"

"Yes, that's right," Keith said.

"Don't you all find that strange? Especially since the alarms in the museum never went off?" Seeing that she'd hit a mark, she asked another question. "How about camera footage? What museum nowadays doesn't have cameras watching the visitors? And did any of you ask yourselves or each other why the shoes instead of say… those antique brooches or cameos?"

"You're right, it's very strange; we did ask and we did wonder. The jewelry is the first thing a person saw in those displays; the shoes are near the end of the tour, so yes, we wondered why the shoes instead of the more valuable jewelry. And here's what's even more odd," Caine announced, sitting on the table top. "Mr. Wolfe, if you please."

"The footage on the videos at the museum went fuzzy. All we had was static," he answered reluctantly. "The cameras weren't down for long, though."

"No, of course not. If they had, the security guards and the police would have known immediately that something was wrong, so it had to be no more than a blip, something explainable. Approximately for how long, though?"

Notes were consulted. "They went down around three in the morning and were off for no more than a minute."

"And all of you experienced this problem?" she asked anyways, knowing that her question would be affirmed. "And that's why everyone thought the girls managed to steal the shoes," she commented. "If they managed to fool the cameras then they fooled the alarms. And because they were loners, it was assumed that they were on the bad side of the law from the get-go, despite what their friends and teachers might have said." She shook her head. _I'm betting Japan has, or will experience the same thing._ Madoka was determined that Mai wouldn't suffer that kind of stigma. "I know it had to occur to you all that a person trying to rob the museum would need superhuman speed to pull that off or someone who was adept at fooling technology. So why didn't any of you contest the claim that the girls stole the shoes?"

"McLaughlin seems to have a very long arm," Lee said bitterly.

"I see."

"Not only that," Wolfe said. "But what alternative is there? They were found with the shoes and they were wearing them," he finished, recalling the hellish scene where they'd found socially outcast Theresa Armstrong lying in her own waste and blood wearing the shoes from the museum. Now that he thought about it, the shoes were pristine; despite the mess of the body and the fact that they'd somehow been 'stolen,' they were perfect. They didn't know that the shoes were from a display until McLaughlin had come to the station to claim his property.

"You won't like it, but I'll tell you anyways. The cameras went down at precisely three in the morning?" she asked.

"So?" The young man rolled his eyes. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Three a.m. Mr. Wolfe, was it? May I call you Nick? Wonderful. To some, that's the Witching Hour. The darkest hour of the early hours," she said, continuing despite the surprised snorts and chuckles, "and the cameras went down precisely at that time—that's not a coincidence; there's no way for it to be one. How about the temperature in the room where the shoes were; what was it at, Nick?"

"Just a second… God."

"What?" she asked, already having a good idea of what he was going to say.

"It was freezing! The thermostat recorded the temperature at -17 degrees Celsius," Wolfe said. "How's that possible?"

"Could be a fluke," Calleigh said.

But it wasn't, Madoka knew.

"No, it can't," Keith said. "It can't be a fluke if it also happened here. So what does that mean, Ms. Mori?"

"You're right, it's not a fluke. Welcome to Paranormal Investigations. The cameras went out at three a.m.; the temperature dropped to below freezing. It didn't last long, but long enough to record it. My guess is that three in the morning is when Annabelle shot herself, while wearing those shoes. After all," she said, a far-off look entering her eyes, "no sense going outside without shoes after the rain, right? No, no sense in that at all. And those were available. Parties lasted longer back then," she said, speaking mostly to herself. "With all the guests still at the party, dancing, eating, drinking, _laughing,_ who was going to notice a grief-ridden girl who was supposed to be asleep sneak into her daddy's office, get his gun, and slip out of the house? With the music, who was going to hear the shot down at the pond?"

An uncomfortable silence snuck into the room and reigned.

"Who is Annabelle?" Caine asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Madoka snapped, coldly furious with herself and mentally berating herself for allowing such a thing to happen again. "She's a ghost; she haunts the shoes that all the girls were 'wearing' when they died." Best to not give them the chance to question her, she decided. "Moving on, however. Did McLaughlin directly say that the girls must have somehow stolen the shoes?"

"His secretary hinted at it. And of course, choosing between unexplained or the girls being thieves, the people accepted that they were crooked."

_Of course they would,_ she thought, cynically. She focused on Calleigh. "His secretary? She said that?"

"He, actually," Lee said, and Madoka looked over at him when he spoke. "And he's more of the do-all for McLaughlin than a secretary. You might find it interesting that he was ordered to Japan quite suddenly."

"Really? How unsurprising. Does 'he' have a name?"

"One better. Name and photograph," Lee said, approaching the computer and bringing up the information for her to see.

She glanced at it then did a double take. "Oh, God," she said, staring at it. "Oh, God," she said again, shaking her head.

"What is it, Ms. Mori? Caine asked. That wasn't the reaction they were expecting.

She didn't answer—couldn't. Her arms dropped limply off the desk and to her side as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing, and she prayed that she was wrong. The man in the photo was definitely older. Time and something more potent—grief, she decided, had taken a toll on him, peppering his hair with gray. But the black was so dark it looked like it was streaked with blue highlights, and those eyes! Those large, stormy-blue eyes!

"I'm sorry," she managed, after a moment. "He just looks so familiar."

"Someone you know?" Lee asked.

"No," she denied. She didn't know that man. She didn't want to know him, either. All the same, it seemed as if fate was having a good laugh at the expense of the B.S.P.R. and its branch in Japan. She filed the information away and focused on the cops that were on the conference call. "Thank you, all of you, for your time. I'll make certain that Lieutenant Chamberlin keeps you up to date."

Respectively, the detectives murmured their good-byes and well-wishes to Madoka and signed off. Madoka pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, intent on telling Lin about the person whose picture she just saw. A gentle clearing of a throat regained her attention and she looked at the computer. There was one video window still open. He was alone in his conference room, she saw; his team had been dismissed to go about their duties. She put her phone down. "Lieutenant Caine?"

He surveyed her silently for a moment. "Mr. Wolfe thinks you're crazy," he told her.

Madoka smiled. "I get that a lot. Skeptics are one of the biggest drawbacks to psychic investigations."

"I'm sure. I'm not going to pretend to understand what's really going on. I also don't know how much faith I'll put in your theory of a ghost causing these deaths, but no matter which way I dissect it in my mind, I can't really think of an alternative. I'll appreciate you keeping me posted, and if you have credentials from the British Society of Psychic Research would you mind providing them?"

"Not at all," she said.

"Thank you." The screen went blank. Madoka sat in front of the computer and simply lost herself in thought. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned to her cell phone, quickly typed a message to Lin—she could admit to being a coward and not telling Naru—and pocketed the phone. "Let's move," she said, standing.

"Where to?" Lee asked, bewildered.

"To Benjamin Baker. Or, his descendants, I should say. The genealogy search finished while we or rather I, was talking to the detectives. Let's see what we can find out from Cassandra Baker, his great-great-granddaughter."

…

"So tell me why you didn't want to go the Historical Society," Lee said, driving to the address he'd gained at the station. He'd suggested that they stop off at the Historical Society—they probably had what she was looking for, but Madoka was adamant about staying away from there.

"I've read the fanciful version of the story. It's on their website. I want the truth—or as close to it as possible. The more information I have for Oliver and Lin, the better chance we have of solving what Annabelle wants."

That brought the discussion to an end. Baker's Field, the plantation that Cassandra Baker lived on was truly grand. Lee admired it as he drove up the long, winding drive that snaked itself up to the front porch. The way was lined with trees that stood, silent sentinels, to the house that towered above it. He parked his car at the end of the walk way and got out. In his mind's eye, he could see grand parties and grandiose carriages ferrying people to the front doors that had probably been open to receive guests. He was willing to bet that the only things that had changed about the house itself were the modern conveniences and the screen door. He looked back at Madoka and tilted his head to the side, as if to ask her if she was going to join him. That was all she needed. Approaching his side, she climbed the steps with him and rang the door bell. They heard the lock open and a trim woman peered at them from the security screen. "Yes?"

"Cassandra Baker?" Lee asked, pulling out his badge.

"Yes," she said warily. "What is it? Is it Joe? Is he all right? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Your husband is just fine."

"Cops usually don't show up on a person's doorstep for a social visit."

"Normally, you're correct. But I'm the one who has questions," Madoka said.

"Questions?"

"About your ancestor, Benjamin Baker."

The lock on the screen door opened and Cassandra pushed the door out. "If Joe's all right, then come on in. I'll make some tea."

…

Now that the screen wasn't shielding her from view, Cassandra Baker was a middle-aged woman of forty-five years. She was polished and well-kept if her tall, willowy body was any indication. Her hair was a honey blond, expertly styled, high-lighted, and cut short to frame a beautiful, aristocratic face. She was easily as tall as Madoka and showed off a toned body in a simple black business suit—a deep green blouse was her only color. Her jewelry was simple, too. A single pearl sat at her throat and a slim silver watch sat around her right wrist. The only piece that could be considered extravagant was the enormous trio of diamonds that sat on her left ring finger. The way that she was dressed, Lee wondered if she wasn't about to go out. She spoke before he could ask.

"I'm not really sure how I can help," Cassandra said, placing the tea service on the coffee table in the living room. Picking up the tea pot, she poured two cups and handed them over to her guests. Then she poured one for herself. "Of course I've been hearing about those poor girls; I've even heard rumors that the collection was responsible for their deaths."

"Would that surprise you?" Madoka asked carefully, adding a splash of milk and sugar to her tea.

"To tell the truth, I thought it was poppycock. Oh, God," she said, putting the cup down. "It's true?" she asked.

"Let's say that it's not entirely false."

A puzzled expression clouded her face. "Then what do you need me for? Sounds like you all need a priest who can exorcise the collection."

"That's not a cure-all," Madoka said.

"Excuse me?"

"I know plenty of exorcists, from varying faiths. It doesn't work if we don't know why the collection is haunted in the first place."

"Well how should I know? I'm not associated with the collection."

"You may know more than you think. May I, we," Lee amended when Madoka cleared her throat, "ask you a few questions?" he asked.

"As long as I have the right to refuse answering."

"Of course."

"Well, then," Madoka said, putting her cup down and shifting on the couch. "I'm curious about your ancestor, Benjamin Baker."

"My great-great-grandfather. He fought in the Battle of Peach Tree Creek, you know. But of course you'd know that, being the police."

"I'm not the police," Madoka said. "I'm a researcher that investigates psychic phenomena."

"I…see."

"If you're here, obviously, your great-great-grandfather didn't die like he was purported to."

A quick smile flashed across her face. "Obviously not."

"And yet, Annabelle died thinking that he had. Why don't you fill in what gaps you can."

"Well, now. That's an old story. Grandpa Ben preserved it in a journal, too. I gave a copy to the historical society, but I think the historian liked his version better than the truth."

"He was forced to marry, wasn't he?"

"He was. It's not a lie to say that Jennifer Anne was beautiful and she helped him through the grief of losing Annabelle, but Grandpa Ben, according to his journals, never got over Annabelle. He called her name on his deathbed. Oh, he did his duty with Jennifer Anne, but it was a duty only. He never loved her. Tragic, if you think about it, because Great-Grandma Jennifer loved him dearly. Grandpa Ben was going to elope with Annabelle. Annabelle's parents refused to allow the marriage, so for two people in love, what could they do?"

"Did they never think about forcing Annabelle's parent's hands at the situation?"

"I don't know. I'm sure it occurred to them, but they just didn't. I don't know why."

"Can you tell us why Annabelle's family wouldn't allow the marriage?"

Cassandra was silent for a moment. "Consider it this way," she began. "A street urchin wanting to marry a man of prestige."

Madoka blinked. "Ah," was all she said. She understood.

"According to the Hathenway's _we_ were the urchins; they're old money, you understand. During their hey-day, the Baker Family was new and just getting started. The difference was enormous, back then. Annabelle was the Hathenway family's pride and joy; from what I've understood from Grandpa Ben's journals, her family already had a suitor picked out for her. Too bad they didn't plan on my grandfather and Annabelle falling in love. And from what I've seen by that stuffy old historian, Annabelle loved Grandpa Ben just as much."

"That I can safely assure you of," Madoka said, polishing off the tea and setting the cup and saucer on the table. "Cassandra, where was your great-grandfather buried?"

Cassandra contemplated the question her odd guest just asked. She didn't look like she was there to desecrate a family grave site. But that didn't mean much, nowadays. But she'd seen Lieutenant Chamberlin on the news; he looked like he was a solid cop and she had no doubts that if the other lady next to him had designs on grave desecration, then he would stop her before she went too far.

"There's a family cemetery in the backyard. Would you care to see?"

"May we?"

"Let me change my shoes."

"Are we keeping you from an appointment?" Lee asked suddenly.

"Hardly. Our esteemed mayor doesn't understand the concept of 'on time,' anyhow. Three damned secretaries and the man can't tie his shoes, or get to a place on time. It's embarrassing. I'm an Event Coordinator," she explained, when Madoka looked blank. She led the pair to the back door and slipped out of her black heels and into an ancient pair of Keds shoes that were far too big for her feet.

"What kind of event are you coordinating?"

"A charity ball—supposedly. I don't think he'll have too many guests that will donate to whatever cause he decides to campaign for."

"Probably not. He probably won't get re-elected again."

"Your mouth to God's ears," Cassandra said. "Well, this way." She pushed open the door and led them to a massive backyard. And it was in full bloom, Madoka realized, looking at all the flowers.

"It's lovely!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you. My pride and joy now that the kids are grown and gone."

Madoka could see that. "What did the plantation produce?" she asked, following Cassandra down a flagstone pathway.

"Cotton, tobacco, and indigo. We still grow indigo," she said, indicating to the plants as they passed them. And cotton, too." She pointed to the tall cotton plants. "We sell it to the local farmers and fabric stores."

"What about the tobacco?"

"Joe and I had it removed when we first got married."

"I gather you don't approve of it."

Cassandra shrugged, not answering. She hardly needed to. "Here we are," she said, stopping at a neat plot with about ten headstones and one massive mausoleum. In the middle stood a winged angel that looked like it was about to take off towards the heavens.

Silently, and needing to do this alone, Madoka stepped forward into the grave yard and peered at the tombstones. She ignored Cassandra asking Lee what she was doing and Lee responding not to worry. It took her a moment, but she located the graves of Jennifer Anne and Benjamin Baker. She moved over to them and knelt in front of his grave. "I need to know what she wants," she murmured. "Will you help me?"

She felt no resistance, so she took that as a 'yes.' Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and reached out one hand, lightly touching the smooth marble of the grave stone. She was in before she could even take a breath. Images flooded her mind. The man who was buried there hadn't ever forgotten Annabelle, or the love they'd shared, just as Cassandra had said. One set of images in particular stood out. Dancing; she loved dancing. And he had been her favorite dancing partner at parties.

_Is that what she wants?_ It was so simple that Madoka wasn't sure she could trust what she'd seen. But the dead had no reason to lie, she told herself. Most of the time. Instinct told her that what she'd seen was true. That was how the love between Annabelle Hathenway and Benjamin Baker got its start. _So why go after mediums?_

The answer had Madoka jerking away, but not before Benjamin Baker grabbed her arm and looked at her pleadingly. Madoka understood what he was asking and nodded. She would do her best. She couldn't promise—wouldn't. Then she was back, slumped over a grave with Lee and Cassandra trying to get her attention.

"I'm all right," she said, grimacing at the taste of dirt.

"You gave us such a fright," Cassandra murmured, as Lee helped her to sit up.

Madoka winced. Her head was splitting and her eyelids were heavy; every muscle ached. She'd synchronized too strongly with the gravestone and now she'd pay a price for it. She was lucky that she hadn't blacked out. "I'm sorry," she told them.

"What happened to you?" Lee asked.

She smiled faintly. "I synched too strongly with the tombstone. I told you I was good with psychometry."

He looked at the set of fingerprints that were fast turning into ugly bruises; his jaw clenched angrily. "Good enough to take home a set of prints?" _ Fingerprints from a long dead man,_ his mind intoned.

"It could have been worse," she told him. "Much worse."

"Forgive me for not agreeing with you, Ms. Mori. In our world, bruises like those are the result of a human being, not a ghost."

He was headed towards a fury, she realized; she shook her head. She wasn't going to apologize; she'd told him why she was in America. Sometimes, psychic investigations got nasty. "Occupational hazard," she said.

"We should get you cleaned up," Cassandra said, helping Madoka to her feet.

"I'll be all right- well, I wouldn't say no aspirin or Ibuprofen. Do you have something of Benjamin Baker's that I could borrow?"

Cassandra watched her steadily- this woman didn't stop until it was done, she was wiling to bet. Likely, this Madoka excelled at her job. "Will this help the girls that have died and could potentially die?"

"Yes," she said decisively.

Cassandra nodded and propelled Madoka back to the house. Lee brought up the rear with an ugly scowl on his face. When they were back inside, Madoka cleaned up as best as she could in the guest bathroom and swallowed three Ibuprofen pills. She rejoined Lee a few moments later, keeping her eyes studiously averted from his. Cassandra joined them promptly, holding a box and a sheaf of papers.

It was a small jewelry box and a stack of papers. "These," she said, holding up the stack, "are Grandpa Ben's journal. You might find them useful; you might not. This," Cassandra commented, handing over the box, "is rumored to have been a gift from Annabelle herself. I can't confirm that. I can, however, confirm that Grandpa Ben always wore this watch." To prove her point, she handed a photograph to Madoka, showing her the watch. "I want them back," Cassandra said.

"Of course. I'll airmail them back to you when we're done. Thank you for your time."

"Put those ghosts to rest and those girls."

"You have my word."

"Let's go," Lee said, taking her elbow in a surprisingly gentle grip and leading her out of the house. The ride back to her Bed and Breakfast was almost stifling and seemed to take forever. Seeing as they weren't going to talk at all, she closed her eyes and leaned back, allowing the pain relievers to do their job; she couldn't wait to get to her room and take a long, hot shower- or bath. When they finally arrived, Madoka turned to him before shutting the car door.

"Go home and pack, Lieutenant. I'll make the arrangements and call you. And Lieutenant?"

"What?" He was still seething.

She gestured to her arm; the pain had dulled, but wasn't completely gone. "This wasn't your fault. And you couldn't have prevented it, either, so do your best to get over it before we fly." She shut the door and turned to go into the cozy bed and breakfast. She had arrangements to make.

...

**A/N:** All righty! Another chapter done! Thanks to Eilara for her beta-work! So... grim story for Naru and Gene, very grim, actually. I can only think that their time in the orphanage must have been miserable if Naru caused Poltergeist activity.

Any guesses on who Jeffrey is? And what did you all think of Naru and Chiaki's first date? I'd really appreciate the feedback- in other words, give me reviews.

And in chapter seven, prepare for Madoka, Lee, and one Atsuka Satsuki. ^_^ I'll see you all then!


	7. Promise Me

**A/N:** I bet you all thought I gave this story up, didn't you? Didn't you? Shame on you. Nope, I didn't give up Dancing Queen. I just had limited time to write with my final semester in college underway. Actually, I had less than limited time to write. But now that I've graduated...

Please extend warm thanks to Adela, who was kind enough to beta this chapter! ^_^

And so, without further ado, I present to you all...

**Chapter Seven:** **Promise Me**

_Promise me, when you see, a white rose_

_you'll think of me_

_I love you so,_

_Never let go,_

_I will be your ghost of a rose._

_-Ghost of a Rose,_ Blackmore's Night.

...

Setting the last protective spell, Lin waited a few seconds for it to bond with the silver. He sat back and surveyed his handiwork. Overall, he was pleased with the results. The silver held his enchantments with ease and the containment spells would keep Annabelle from possessing Mai whenever she felt like it. Carefully, he picked up the bracelet and scrutinized it once more. It shone to his second sight and he carefully put it back into its case and stored it in his briefcase. He glanced at his cell phone, checking to see if Madoka had texted beyond the news that she was en-route to Japan. He stifled a yawn and blinked rapidly. Looking at the clock, he stared at the late hour. It couldn't be that late. He'd actually gotten a day's work done _without_ interruptions. Such a thing hadn't happened for… three years. Since Mai had started to work for Shibuya Psychic Research.

Standing, he stretched before meandering out of his office. He looked around, noticing perhaps for the first time how still the office was; it felt empty, sad…desolate. The fragrant smell of tea that usually permeated the common room was conspicuously absent and there were no light burning in Naru's office. Speaking of his charge, he wondered where the young man was—certainly he hadn't come in to work. Perhaps he was with Kasai-san. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Having a girlfriend seemed to agree with the younger man; he was starting to live. Lin knew that Naru's parents were ecstatic (and, unbeknownst to Naru, were planning a visit), but the sorcerer also imagined that Eugene was pleased with his twin, as well. He looked around and gave into sentimentality; the room looked grim without Mai. He'd told her not to bother coming into the office and suggested that she take off from her classes—ostensibly to work on her paper, but she wasn't stupid—she'd easily read between the lines: if case Annabelle possessed her, she would be at her apartment or his rooms, both of which contained wards that would prevent Annabelle and her purloined body from leaving.

He glanced at the clock again; time to close up shop and head back. He gathered up the materials he'd brought with him and then began the systematic process of shutting down, starting with his computer. It amazed him how long it had been since he'd had to shut the entire office down by himself. Pulling the door closed behind him, he pulled out his keys. He doubted that Naru would return to the office, but if he did, he had his own set.

A small sound of distress caused Lin to look sharply to his left. On the landing stood a beautiful woman—and she knew it; Lin was certain of that. She was lithe, and thanks to her shoes, nearly Madoka's height. She wore a long-sleeved, knee length tunic of greens and blues with black leggings. Dangle-earrings, bangle bracelets, and a watch were her jewelry, but the ensemble didn't stop there. Her hair was artfully arranged in loose banana curls down her back and her makeup was perfect—too perfect to not have been done by a professional makeup artist. A night on the town and what for, he wondered. Surely all this glamour couldn't be for a Psychic Research Center. Perhaps she thought to seduce Naru into dating her? Or himself? If that was her aim, then she was in the wrong place.

_No,_ he decided, taking a closer look at her outfit. It seemed atypical for spring; the weather was still warm and that had to be polyester or silk—not very comfortable in the heat and humidity. _No, I wouldn't be surprised if she was a reporter._ He watched her carefully, staying silent and allowing her the first word. Maybe she was just lost. Wishful thinking, he knew.

"Shibuya-san? Are you Shibuya-san?" she asked, taking a few steps towards him. She knew he wasn't, but for appearances, she had to pretend until she heard otherwise. This was going to be the hardest interview she'd ever done.

"No. Shibuya-san's already left for the day. He'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Oh," she said crestfallen. "Then I am too late."

He frowned at the subtle emphasis on the word 'am.' "For today you are," he agreed.

She bit her lip and worried it.

Lin waited for her to turn and leave. He was bitterly disappointed when she didn't.

"Do you work here?" she asked, gesturing to the office.

_No, I just have the keys because they seem to trust me despite kleptomaniac tendencies!_ he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the mundane question. He was sure she knew the answer already. "I do."

"Could you please, please, pass along a message to Shibuya-san? Or could you take down my information and a brief description of my problem?"

Lin had to give her credit, she'd done her homework. The sorcerer considered refusing—it was awfully tempting. But if he did, she would be back tomorrow morning, complaining and creating a headache for all involved. He sighed internally. Best to get it over and done with and then deal with tomorrow when tomorrow came. Unlocking the office again, he preceded her inside.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the couches and setting his briefcase down on Yasuhara-san's desk. "Let me just grab a pen and pad."

"Umm… could I… trouble you for something to drink? My throat's so dry."

Sure it was. _And the kitchen was clean, too, dammit, _he thought. "I have iced coffee, iced green tea, and water available," he told her, making it clear that she had those three choices only.

"Not the coffee," she told him, shaking her head. "It's so…_American_, don't you think?" she asked, batting her lashes. The look on his face said he didn't care either way, so she gave up and went a different route. "Umm… the iced green tea?"

Turning, he went into the kitchenette. Once he was out, she hurried over to his briefcase, opened the closest pocket—hopefully an unoccupied one, slipped the small, hand-held camera into it, and turned it on, pressing record. She flashed a 'v' sign at the single lens and smiled broadly before laying the briefcase down again. A hiss passed her ear and she looked up, startled. She looked around, expecting to see a large reptile, but saw nothing. Did they have a dog here, she wondered, looking around, puzzled. No, no dog and dogs didn't hiss. Now cats…no, no cat, either. Then where had that hiss come from? She shook her head and chalked it up to nerves—maybe she'd unconsciously done it. She hurried back to the couch. When he didn't immediately return, she got up and wandered over to the windows. Grasping the tie, she tugged on it and opened the blinds, letting the sunlight in. She stood there, hoping that Jiro had the second camera recording.

She glanced around the office, committing its layout to memory. The front door lead in to what was obviously a common room—it was here that guests and potential clients were interviewed. It was bigger than it looked, but then, so was the Dolphin Café downstairs. The space looked like it was used efficiently. Two couches, a chair, and an ottoman sat in the center of the space around a rectangular coffee table. It gave the entire room a Western feel. Spreading out around the rest of the room and loosely flanking the furniture were four desks—all with computers. She moved over to them to get a good look; obviously where the receptionist and researchers worked. There were four doors—well, three doors and a doorway. The doorway was the kitchenette, she was sure. One door, right next to the windows was like a strange hole in the wall and locked, as a quick jiggle on the knob proved. The other two, she didn't know. One was presumably Shibuya-san's office. So where did the other one go?

Looking out over the buildings, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the man who called himself Lin and worked for Shibuya Kazuya-san. Focusing on him, she began to draft her article with an impression of him. _Tall, brooding, and silent…silent? No, not strong enough to describe him. Tall, brooding, and taciturn—no, no taciturn doesn't work, either. What then?_ She wracked her brains, trying to think of a word to describe the man known as Lin Koujo. He was certainly… serious; sober, unrelenting… austere._ Austere, yes, austere works beautifully, and let's say that he's aloof, instead of brooding. Tall, aloof, and austere, there's so little known about Lin Koujo-san, assistant to Shibuya Kazuya-san. _That wasn't bad, she decided. It needed to be cleaned up a bit. _And he's hot, too._ Too bad she couldn't use _that_ in the description; she could write that he was handsome, though._ He's a lovely, lovely specimen,_ she thought, resisting the urge to fan herself. She was reasonably confident that she was doing well and she was sure that her story was interesting enough for Shibuya-san to agree to take the case. If he didn't, she could cajole, plead, beg, threaten… all of the above. She cast a sidelong glance at the kitchen, vaguely wondering what was taking him so long—it didn't matter, more time for her to think. When this was over, she was going to jump Lin-san's bones and go for hot monkey sex; she'd bet he was dynamite in bed and every other surface. As if he knew what she was thinking, he returned with the green tea; it was show time.

She gave him a watery smile. "Thank you. Where's yours?" she asked, taking the glass and making certain to brush his fingers with hers.

He ignored the not-so-subtle invite, glanced at the window, and frowned. "I had plenty earlier," he informed her, hoping that she got the implication.

Going over to Mai's desk, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a pad and pen. Satsuki took that moment to turn on her recorder. Equipped with the tools he'd need, he glanced at his briefcase before taking a seat on the couch. He sighed mentally. Damned reporters; he hoped that she hadn't swiped the bracelet. _Yes, go,_ he told his Shikigami. He didn't acknowledge his third Shiki when it confirmed that the bracelet was still where he'd put it.

"Your name, please," he began, uncapping the pen.

"Atsuka," she told him. "Atsuka Satsuki." She waited for him to ask about the characters her name was made up with—everyone always did. She felt a keen stab of disappointment when he had no reaction to her given name. His face told her that it was just another name to him—nothing special; what she had considered made her unique was ignored. Covering up her discomfiture, she picked up the glass and took a liberal swallow.

"Atsuka-san, what brings you to Shibuya Psychic Research?" He nearly added 'after hours,' but held his tongue.

"Oh, call me Satsuki, won't you?" she asked, waving her hand dismissively.

He sighed. He really hated reporters. Screw holding his tongue. It _was_ after hours and he wanted to be back at the hotel with Mai. "Atsuka-san, what brings you to S.P.R. after hours?"

She flinched; he was obviously displeased that she was there when they'd just closed and he clearly wasn't going to use her given name even though she'd invited him to. She'd heard that about him—formal to all except for a few. She resisted the urge to grin. She was going to find out who knew him underneath that cold exterior.

"Atsuka-san?"

"Ah…" she trailed off, realizing she'd been silent for too long. She stole a fast look at where her recorder was stored and cleared her throat. "There's an old, dry well in my backyard."

_And this is a worthy case?_ Lin wondered, observing her. She toyed with her watch while waiting for him to say something, anything, in response to her statement. What bothered him was that she didn't look harried or upset—emotions he was used to seeing. She looked…_eager_ was the best word he could think of, eager, but trying not to seem so. Eager for what, Lin had no clue. She would either tell him the rest of her bizarre story, (and he knew it was bizarre—after all, an _old_, _dry_, well?) or she wouldn't. So he waited, growing more and more irate with every passing second. When he said nothing, she finally looked at him and nearly recoiled.

He was frowning and he knew it. "Atsuka-san, are you certain you have a case for us?" he asked, his tone indicating that he believed otherwise.

"Of course I do!" she cried. "Would I be here if I didn't?"

"I'm asking myself that very same question." He tapped the pen against the pad contemplatively.

"Why is that?" she asked him, insulted.

If anything, Lin's frown deepened. "Atsuka-san," he said slowly, as if trying to work out a puzzle. "The people who walk into S.P.R.'s door are the ones who are in dire need of our help and have nowhere else to turn; they're the ones who have tried exorcisms and have had them fail—many times over. They've consulted every religious expert, every charlatan, every psychic and every other psychic research facility and still experience the same problem that took them there in the first place. Those are the clients that walk through our door. They don't show up as femme fatales and record conversations," he said, snatching the recorder and turning it off amidst her protestations. "They also don't scheme to pepper us with questions or dither around when it comes to telling us about a potential case," he finished, removing the tape and stowing in his pocket. He set the recorder on the table top in front her. "I'm like Shibuya-san—I hate having my time wasted." He fixed her with a mild look that chilled Satsuki to her very soul. A glare would have been less intimidating. "If you don't have an actual case, the door is behind you," he said, pointing to it. "Feel free to use it and don't return."

Standing, he picked up the glass and carried it into the kitchen, dumping the tea down the drain. He stuck the glass into the sink and frowned when he didn't hear movement. That meant she was still at the office. He walked back into the common room and surveyed her coldly. At least she wasn't recording any more.

"Atsuka-san." His tone made it clear that was no longer welcome.

She looked up her face serious, the coy looks were gone. That had been an eye-opener. She wondered how Lin-san had known that she was recording or that she was a reporter. Maybe they weren't hacks like The Minami Psychic Research Center, maybe. That could have been a lucky guess. But she did have an actual problem and she had consulted others before coming to this place. In fact, to her, it had been a stroke of luck, being asked to do a piece on Shibuya Psychic Research. Two birds with one stone. They'd solve why that ghost she saw on the roadsides had followed her home and was trying to kill her. And she'd get an interview—she hoped. She just had to get them to her house—the house she hadn't been to for two months because that ghost was just waiting for her. She smiled sardonically. It seemed they would get the truth, after all.

"I do have a problem," she told him, all pretense gone, and this time, she'd tell the absolute truth. She had a feeling if she didn't… she'd be frog marched out by _something_.

Lin returned to the couch seat he'd vacated and sat down again. Reaching out to the table, he picked up the pad and pen again. "Start from the beginning. Be as concise and detailed as possible."

Her tale had taken at least forty-five more minutes. When she'd finished, she peered at him, completely guile-free. "Please tell me you'll take my case."

For a long moment, Lin surveyed her. Now that she was no longer putting on a show, he could see that she was truly desperate for their help. He capped the pen. "I can't give you any promises, Atsuka-san. I can, however, run this by Shibuya-san in the morning." He handed her the pad and pen. "Please write down your contact information and I'll inform you of his decision when he's had the chance to go over these notes."

She nodded, looking at her hands. "That'll have to do, then, won't it?"

An hour later, Lin locked the office again, this time certain there'd be no more guests. He'd finished his report to Naru, emailed it to the young ghost hunter, and began to walk back to the hotel; it wasn't very far and it was nice enough to walk. When he was a few blocks away from the office and the reporter, he stopped and pulled the camera out of the pocket of his briefcase that she'd stowed it in. He had to give her credit for her creativity, he thought, stopping the recording. He thought about abandoning it, but took another look. Well, well. This camera was state of the art for ghost hunters; Naru had been eyeing them forever. It was wireless and able to transmit back to a base station camera with little to- no problems and usually, the quality was phenomenal. His younger associate would be pleased with this new acquisition. Pocketing it, he continued his trek back to the hotel.

…

Satsuki walked into the vacant office building right across the street, more shaken than she cared to admit. At the elevator, she pressed the button and slipped into the silent car, taking it to the second floor. When the doors admitted her with a rush of air, she stepped out and kicked her heels off with a sigh of relief. She slipped on the waiting pair of slippers and walked over to the water heater for a cup of tea.

"He sure was angry with you," Jiro remarked as a greeting.

She grimaced, but nodded in agreement with his assessment. "He took my tape," she pouted. "He even went as far as to kick me out."

"How did he know you were recording?"

"Maybe the recorder wasn't hidden as well as I thought," she said, dismissing the question. "Let's review the video tape."

"You got it." Putting down his coffee, he rolled over to the computer and typed in a few commands.

She watched the screen intently, missing his longing look in her direction. She saw herself standing at the window and turning to Lin-san when he returned, carrying a glass of iced green tea. Satsuki watched herself move over to the couch and the camera zeroed in for a close up.

Lin himself moved over to the desk closest to the window and took out a legal pad and pen, and that was odd; she wondered why he picked _that_ desk instead of the one holding his briefcase to grab supplies from. Whatever the reason, they had a phenomenal view of the assistant. He didn't even know he was being taped! While Lin was grabbing the necessary materials, Satsuki reviewed herself turning on the recorder and putting it back in her purse's pocket. She tilted her head to the side. Now that she thought about it, Jiro had asked a good question: how _had_ Lin-san known about the recorder? It was better hidden than she'd recalled. Just before joining her at the other couch, he looked briefly at the desk nearest to the door—the desk that held his briefcase and subsequently the other camera. Jiro took a contemplative sip of coffee, wondering what the man's abilities were that allowed him to work for a Psychic Research facility.

"What did he look at?" he queried, looking at his partner.

Satsuki frowned and tried to remember what had been there for him to look at. His briefcase? Why would he bother looking at his briefcase? "I think he glanced at his attaché case. Although I don't know why. Unless he knew there was another camera in there? But how could he have known?"

"Let's assume he did. This place is a psychic research facility."

She shook her head. "I thought they were just quacks, like Minami Psychic Research. That's why I agreed to do this expose. But that," she said, pointing to the screen, "that's just damned spooky, especially if he knew—whoa!" she cried, when the picture of her and Lin was abruptly terminated and replaced with snow and static.

"What the hell?" Jiro murmured, looking at the keyboard and tapping a few of the keys to see if it was a glitch. "This didn't happen during the recording," he told her, a puzzled look dawning on his face. "I'd have known if the screens started producing static."

"It's only the camera, then. Something messed with the camera itself without letting us see." She smiled. "Maybe they're not fakes, after all. Jiro-kun, this is the _best_ story of the century!" she cried, wrapping her arms around herself and doing a happy jig.

He shook his head, ignoring her enthusiasm. "How'd that guy do it?" He didn't doubt that the mysterious assistant of S.P.R. had somehow made this happen. The question was, how had he managed it? A switch somewhere on the desk that scrambled things? No, that worked with transmissions. It should have scrambled the other camera, not this one. But watching the static, all he could wonder was how. He shook his head and turned to Satsuki. "There's no way he could have known we had a secondary camera recording in the building adjacent to their office."

So he said. But it was a psychic research facility. What in the world did they expect of people working for them?

"That's _if_ he knew there was a camera in his briefcase," she commented, answering his question. "He could have looked over at it to make sure that it wasn't in danger of falling."

"Satsuki… it was laying down." She didn't answer and he shook his head. Skeptical to the last—that was his… well that was Atsuka Satsuki. "I have to ask—if you don't _believe_ in psychics, why would you ask them to investigate your… complication?"

She blinked. He'd never asked her that before and she'd just told the entire story to Lin-san. And she couldn't tell him the absolute truth because he thought she was a skeptic. So she shrugged in response, knowing that if he ever found out that she wasn't as skeptical as she pretended to be… he'd probably leave her, like her former boyfriend; he'd broken up with her because she _did_ believe in psychics. She felt tears coalesce in her eyes.

"I don't know," she told him, watching the snow and rubbing her eyes discreetly. The lies rolled easily off her tongue. "Maybe I got caught up in the moment when he told me to either have a real case or leave and never return. Maybe… they're the real deal. When I called and asked her, Takamoto Chisato-san said they were able to solve what was happening on their block."

_And they're making plans to return to the States to bury her father-in-law,_ Jiro, hacker and reporter, thought. It struck him as odd that the research facility had gone to do a routine investigation and ended up with a dead body that had somehow been drowned. That wasn't the first case S.P.R had had with dead bodies showing up. The Prime Minister's case in Suwa that no one was supposed to know about had resulted in many of the psychics of a certain age dying with their throats carved up. The case in Tokyo, too, the Yoshimi's; dead dogs and dead bodies… he wondered at them.

Satsuki continued, "And she's just one of many clients—" She broke off and tilted her head to the side, watching the screen with a puzzled frown. "What the hell is that?"

"What?" Jiro asked, turning to the static-filled screen but seeing nothing. Maybe she'd lost her mind after talking to Lin.

"That," she replied, watching a shadow flit across the screen.

That was odd, he decided, watching it. "Haven't the foggiest."

"Can you clean the image up and get something more concrete?"

He scratched his head. "Should be able to. It's on the tape, after all. It'll take a couple of hours, though."

"Go for it," she invited. "I'm going to start drafting the article—to the best of my abilities. Check on the hand-held camera, too, would you?"

"Sure," he said, already working on the video segment with the strange shadow. He personally thought that psychic researchers were all head cases. Skeptical to the core, he made it his personal mission as of now to prove it.

…

By the time Lin stepped into the hotel's lobby, he'd finished mentally drafting the report for Naru about their late visitor. He walked past the desk, intent on getting to the elevator before anyone who knew him saw him. As he stepped into a mercifully empty elevator, he ran through Atsuka Satsuki's story. _"I… haven't been home—home, home—in two months." She gave a hollow chuckle. "I'm sure that my living situation couldn't possibly interest you. You're… aware that I obviously concocted the story of the well and my backyard. Well, I do have an old well, but it's not a problem. And we know how well that story went over." She'd rubbed her hands together as if she didn't know what to do with them. _

It had been on the tip of Lin's tongue to tell the woman to get on with her story, but he knew better than to rush a client.

_"I was driving home a couple months ago… it was late, very late. The road leading to my neighborhood isn't very well lit." She bit her lip, envisioning it, driving along the winding, twisting band of road that held one street lamp every mile or so; the bright lights of her car, just so she could see, and there, in the shadows of one of the last bends, was a person or what she thought was a person. "I thought she was lost, at first; it's easy to get lost in that neighborhood."_

_ "Who?"_

_"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. "All I saw was her standing on the side of the road looking lost. I thought she was in trouble." She shrugged. "So I stopped and asked her if everything was all right. Did she need a ride to the police station? Was she injured? Was there someone I could call for her? She didn't answer at first. She just… smiled. It was creepy. Like a big, dark hole. I was scared right then and there. I wanted to stomp on the gas and go. But then she spoke. Her voice was…hoarse," she decided. "Like it hadn't been used for a while, but she looked so young. And she told me…she told me that everything would be all right because I was the absolute last."_

_ "The last what?"_

_ "I don't know. But… you know my career," she commented. "I did what any good journalist would do: I began to research. I admit I wasn't expecting to tell this story quite so soon." Her lips curved into a small smile. "I didn't bring any of my findings."_

_ "Why were you not expecting to tell this to us? Did you think that S.P.R. would accept your case with such a flimsy story?"_

_ "Other psychic research facilities have," she'd told him with a defiant air._

_"Atsuka-san, we are not other facilities," he'd told her. "It's best that you get that through your head now, because later will be too late—we won't help you. There's more to your story."_

_She observed him silently for a second. "You're right. I didn't actually find very much when I started my research. And I didn't get the chance to look too closely because she somehow started showing up in my house. I'd see her in the mirror when I got out of the shower; in corners when I was asleep. She'd destroy my dishes, nearly killed my dog. After that, I gathered him up and found an apartment here in the city. But every time I look in the mirror, I see her standing there, her mouth gaping in a parody of a smile. It's like having a dead stalker."_

Engrossed in his thoughts, he approached the door, not bothering with his key card. He simply passed a hand over the lock and watched it beep him in. A petty thing, but foiling technology was one of his secret hobbies. A stalker ghost was nothing new to S.P.R. When he and Naru first arrived in Shibuya and opened the office, they'd dealt with a similar case. Something had happened to the spirit in question—it had to have a reason for haunting Atsuka-san. The questions were: what had happened and what did Atsuka Satsuki have to do with it?

Shutting the door, Lin simply inhaled and exhaled a few quiet breaths, the tension ebbing out of him as he allowed the day to fade from his mind—tomorrow was soon enough to resume his thoughts. Curious as to where Mai was, he poked his head into the kitchen and found it empty. The rice-maker was going and a pot sat on a burner. He opened the oven to take a peek and saw the other dishes she'd made. His stomach gurgled in response. Shutting the door, the sorcerer looked to his fourth Shiki and lifted a brow, silently asking Mai's whereabouts. It pointed to the bedroom.

He slipped in and noted with relief that she'd stayed in like he'd requested and was asleep. Her brow was furrowed and he frowned. Asleep didn't mean restful and her sleep clearly wasn't; her face looked pinched, strained, as if she was fighting off something—or someone, or both. Lin had a pretty good idea of what was causing that look to mar her face. Reaching into the briefcase's pocket, he withdrew the bracelet from its box and settled it onto her wrist. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her temple. It took a minute, but as he watched, her brow cleared and the strain she'd exhibited cleared. She shifted on the mattress and Lin noted that she'd bundled into one of his shirts for sleeping. He knew that she had pajamas in his drawer, but she'd forgone that. It pleased him enormously. She'd never shown a preference for wearing his shirts for sleeping. Did she wear one now because his clothing held a residual amount of his power, or did it comfort her? It could be both, he decided, turning away and setting the attaché down.

He unbuttoned the jacket and shrugged it off, with a grateful, silent sigh. The vest went next, followed by the tie. Finished, he unbuttoned the first three clasps of his shirt, left his rooms, and opened the door that led to Naru's rooms. Silent, empty, still. His charge wasn't there. Faintly concerned, Lin turned on the lights and strode into the bedroom. There was a note there explaining briefly that Mai was asleep and to try not to wake her. He'd gone to ask Matsuzaki-san a few questions, and then would be on with a date. Lin smiled. Being involved was certainly good for his charge; the Professor and his wife were ecstatic, too. Turning, he left Oliver's rooms and went back to his. In the doorway, he observed that Mai seemed to be fine. Crossing the threshold, he picked up his laptop and settled next to her on the bed.

…

The shoes followed her, dogging her every step. Mai knew what they wanted, but she'd be damned if she'd give anything. Still… she couldn't keep running forever—dream or no dream, she was getting tired—tired, in a dream. If that wasn't irony, she was a cute little koi fish! She didn't know where she was, exactly. Somehow, she _knew_ this place, her brain however, told her she didn't. It wasn't her place, because she wasn't in Japan, but it was familiar. Annabelle's house, she realized. This place was connected to Annabelle. The house would be considered old, now, but it was just new as she ran through the hallways. There was another corridor coming up—one that intersected with the passage she was running blindly through. If she turned down there, maybe, maybe, she could catch a small break—a chance to catch her breath and rest her tired, screaming muscles. She forced herself down the hall and stopped, hugging the wall and breathing hard. A few moments later, she'd gotten her breath back and waited hardly daring to breath, listening; listening for the insidious whispers of shoes worn by the damned. Nothing, and wasn't that odd? Maybe they'd given up. Unlikely, of course, but maybe she'd bought herself some time.

Stealthily, she peeked around the corner and found it empty. Her brow creased in puzzlement. What game was this? Shouldn't they be there, waiting for her to come out so they could resume their game of cat and mouse? So why weren't they? Her breath caught in her throat and a sliver of ice slid down her spine. She drew in a silent breath and then another. Then she wondered why she bothered. They were there, behind her. Cursing, she whirled and glared at the shoes balefully and if looks could kill, hers would. The whispers began again—simpering, saccharine, reminding her of Masako when she was trying to use her wiles on Naru. She watched them bitterly, waiting for their demands.

_Dance!_ they commanded.

_Help us!_ This from the doomed victims that were already gone, but still trapped; Mai's heart bled for them, but she couldn't help until the shoes were dead.

_Die,_ the slippers ordered.

Mai smiled grimly— it wasn't a smile, per se, but a horrible stretching of the mouth to mimic a grin. "Sorry, but those choices," she said, emphasis the word 'choices,' "just don't appeal to me. So I refuse—vehemently." She waited for their rebuttal; she didn't have long to wait.

_Why do you resist?_

"Because I can," she said defiantly. "Because as long as I'm breathing, you can't tell me differently and most importantly, because it's _my_ choice and _my_ life."

She'd just finished her impassioned speech when something extraordinary happened. The bracelet settled around her wrist, a thin line of silver and light pulsed around her body, wiping away fatigue and coalescing into a serpent of some kind that wrapped itself protectively around her and hissed venomously at the shoes. _Back off,_ it seemed to say. There was a cry of rage and the dream shifted, slipped, and nearly dispersed to allow for a restful slumber, but it held on tenaciously and simply transitioned. Mai shuddered and found herself wearing the slippers, twirling around in her night shift with daddy's revolver. The bracelet sat heavily on her wrist, mindful of what was happening.

How could he be dead? How? It just didn't seem possible. She stopped twirling, grief weighing her down like a lump of lead. Tears tracked down her cheeks, making her cosmetics run. She'd seen what was left of the body; it had been horrible to see. There was no question that he was dead—it had been his uniform and the handkerchief she'd made for him that he carried for luck, for love. A sob tore itself from her throat and rang out into the lonely, desolate night. Drunken laughter from the house floated down; it seemed to her that they were celebrating his death. She smiled grimly and looked down at the revolver—_her_ death.

It was a moonless night and a soft rain had begun to fall. Aside from those who'd imbibed too much of her father's excellent wine, there wasn't a soul out. Still, she stuck to the shadows, wearing the shoes her daddy had had made for her birthday celebration—shoes that her mother had stretched out for her before she'd been able to wear them; daddy had been very angry about that. Well, he'd be angrier still when he found them later, she knew. They were quite sodden. She didn't care. She didn't care. Why did the stupid shoes matter when her lover was dead? Dead, dead, dead. Fate was a cruel, fickle bitch. Didn't it know that she couldn't live without him? The laudanum hadn't dulled the pain; it hadn't made her tired. Instead, it had energized her, cleared her mind. She stopped at the water, hearing the faint strains of the waltz waft down.

She smiled. One last dance, she thought dreamily, kicking off the hated shoes. Taking her stance, she pretended that he was there with her now, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her closer to his body than was appropriate. She could feel the muscles in his back and his shoulder as they flexed and contracted beneath her hands as they flowed through the movements. Amidst the odd knell of bells, she turned and turned. Faster, faster. Mai wrenched herself away, knowing how this ended and turned away. She heard the shot; it was a sound she'd never forget—cold, harsh, and final. She didn't need to see the aftermath of what had really killed Annabelle, or the grave she'd consigned herself to. Mai turned away and the scene disappeared; an inverted space spread out before her as she floated into Eugene's waiting arms. A kind, understanding smile decorated his face and she felt a small blush staining her cheeks.

"Where have you been?" she asked him.

He mouthed something to her.

She blinked. _I thought I was past all this._ "Eh?"

He mouthed again and Mai narrowed her eyes, willing herself to hear him.

"Don't."

His voice echoed and reverberated in the space that held just the two of them. Before she could question him, he disappeared, leaving a deranged ghost in his wake.

"Annabelle-san," she said cautiously, pushing Gene's cryptic message away for the time being. She would understand it when she needed to—or so she hoped.

"Such an odd phrase, this 'san' that you tack onto names."

Mai frowned. "It's an honorific. English has them, too."

"So it does."

"Annabelle-san… you remember, don't you? Or you remember more than you're showing to your victims."

"No," she denied. "No longer."

_Liar._ "Why the lake?" she questioned, taking a different tack. "Why not in your father's study or your room? You went through great pains to get to the lake just to shoot yourself—why?"

Tears filled her eyes and Mai's heart stirred treacherously. "It was our special place. That's where he first kissed me; first told me he loved me; first made love to me there. He asked me to elope with him there."

"Elope? Why?"

"Are you that naïve?" Annabelle asked incredulously, her eyes boring into Mai's.

Mai frowned. "I'm not going to play guessing games with you. I don't really give a rat's ass," she said sweetly. "It doesn't matter what your story really is, we'll get rid of you. For good."

It was Annabelle's turn to frown. This host was different from all the others. This one… scared her. It was an irony that she, a ghost of nearly two-hundred years, was frightened of a mere slip of a girl. She had no doubt that this girl and her friends could make that threat happen. That bracelet was proof that they weren't lying. "He… wasn't… no, he didn't have what my parents wanted for me in a husband—foremost being money in spades. Not that that should have concerned daddy. Our… no," she shook her head, "_his_ coffers were nearly empty." Annabelle sneered. "But appearances were ever so important to daddy."

"Why didn't you and your lover force your father to allow you two to marry?"

"You think we didn't _try_?" Annabelle cried, glaring at her. Annabelle folded her hands protectively over her stomach and Mai understood.

"You understand," she said bitterly, watching the understanding light dawn into Mai's eyes. "When daddy found out that I was pregnant, he slapped me so very hard. But more than that, he went to the Voodoo priestess that lived in a hut deep in the woods."

_How perfectly clichéd, _Mai thought, saying nothing. If Annabelle was able to get this out, they might be one step closer to figuring things out.

Annabelle continued, "He came back with a potion—a vile, black substance. The first time he tried to give it to me, I forced my maid to drink it—seeing as she's the one who told daddy about the witch." Her lips curved in a smile and Mai was awestruck. Insane or not, Annabelle was absolutely beautiful, with alabaster skin, hazel eyes, and a lithe figure. Looking at Annabelle, Mai wondered what Lin could possibly see in _her_.

"Theresa was sick for days on end and I enjoyed watching her suffer. She was carrying my father's baby, did you know that?"

Mai shook her head, fighting the urge to be sick. Such things weren't uncommon.

"The second time he brought the mixture back, I threw it into the fire." She smiled sardonically. "The third time, daddy got involved, directly. I think he was more angry that the maid's baby was lost—she told him it would be a son—but either way, he had some of the male slaves hold me down while he poured the brew down my throat." Her grief was palpable. "I lost the baby that night. It was horrible—the taste, the effect, the blood and the pain. I was sick for weeks on end—slipping in and out of consciousness more times than I could count. During the time when I was abed, somehow daddy got him sent off to war. When I was finally able to leave bed, there was a party and I absolutely had to be there. That was the party that told me about his death. It was almost like we were celebrating his death. Knowing daddy, I wouldn't have been surprised if that's what he was celebrating indeed."

Mai titled her head to the side. That look in her eyes… she knew, Mai was certain. She knew what his name was. She went over to her and knelt in front of her. Annabelle shifted away from the bracelet.

"You remember his name, don't you? Don't you deny it," Mai said fiercely. "You've gotten away with lying to all your other victims, but you won't do so with me. I'm in a position to help you two reunite. You do want that, don't you?"

She did—desperately. But Annabelle only shook her head. "Promise me."

Mai bit off a particularly nasty oath. She was sick and tired of Annabelle's routine. And she wasn't promising anything, come hell or high water. She narrowed her eyes and stared at Annabelle. What did this ghost that had a trail of bodies behind her, want? What did she have to do with her family subsequently dying? Mai wasn't sure how she knew that Annabelle was the responsible party, but she filed the thought away for later and returned to what Annabelle wanted most. Koujo had told her that the first time he encountered Annabelle she pulled him into a dance. The second time in the same space, Annabelle had also tried to dance. She thought back to that dream. At the lake she'd started dancing.

Dancing. That was it. "Dancing," she said slowly. "You want one last dance with him, don't you?"

Defeated, Annabelle nodded. In nearly two-hundred years no host had ever managed to figure it out, nor had they been able help her find him.

"Then tell me his name, Annabelle-san. No," she said, when the ghost opened her mouth to demand a promise. "Don't ask for a promise—you won't get it." The dream started to dissolve, but she held on to Annabelle for a moment longer. "Next time we meet, you _will_ tell me his name."

…...

Mai blinked a few times when soft lamplight entered into her vision. She reached up and wiped away a few sleep tears and blinked some more.

"Good evening."

She looked up to see Lin reclining next to her, his laptop propped up on one bent leg. He peered at her over the top of a pair of reading glasses that he sometimes used when he'd been looking at a computer for far too long. She grinned privately—the glasses made him look sexy—very, very sexy, she decided, liking the relaxed look.

"Hi," she answered, sitting up and yawning.

He put the computer aside and removed the glasses. "Is this new?" he asked, fingering the cotton shirt.

She grinned. "For me it is." She hesitated for a moment. "I thought it would help me sleep. I didn't think you'd mind."

"And you know I don't. I find it…" Erotic, enticing, sexy, sinful… oh, the words going through his mind! "…enchanting, to be honest." He toyed with the hem that reached mid-thigh and heard her sharp intake of breath. His fingers left the shirt and traveled to the bracelet, tracing the silver. "Did this help?"

She smiled. "It did. When the dream first started, the shoes were hounding me. They wanted me to dance, help them, or die. None of those options appealed to me, however, and I refused. Still, I knew that I couldn't keep running forever." She frowned. "It was my dream, but I found myself getting tired." Her smile returned. "Then the bracelet settled over my wrist and the shoes… they were so angry—Annabelle was angry."

"Pity."

"Not really. I was happy. Then the scene shifted, but the bracelet wouldn't leave like she expected. So I found myself wearing the shoes, dancing—well, spinning, just like the first dream. The night she died—shot herself—she'd just found out that her lover had died. So she decided to join him. One last dance—that's what she wanted. But…I danced in those shoes. And I heard the bells, again," she told him, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." But he had an idea—and it was a nasty one, one that he didn't like.

"She wanted to marry him," she told Lin. Tears started to slip down her cheeks. "They tried to force her father to allow them to marry, but he was vehemently against it. He went to a Voodoo priestess somewhere deep into the woods near their plantation." Her eye brows drew down. "I think the Voodoo priestess was a slave of his at one point, but they let her go because the task masters were all dying mysteriously."

"Wonder why," Lin mused.

"She gave him a potion," she continued. "It took three tries to get her to ingest it, but she did, with her father's help. She lost the baby. How could a father be so cruel?"

He gathered her close and wiped away her tears. "Let it go," he murmured into her ear. "There's nothing you can do; it's all in the past and you can't change that which has already happened. Focus on the future, instead: getting rid of that smug look off McLaughlin's face when he realizes that his shoes are just another part of his gaudy display."

She nodded and laid her head against his shoulder, breathing in the spicy, earthy scent that was uniquely him. "Eugene came to me. At first, I couldn't hear him and I couldn't believe it. Wasn't I past all that? Then I _concentrated_. He was warning me again—not to promise anything. I didn't. You've already heard the rest. Next time I meet her in a dream, she will be telling me his name. How was your day?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Uneventful. I actually managed to get work done today—a whole day's worth."

"Savor it," she advised. "It probably won't be the same tomorrow."

"No chance that I can convince you to stay here again?"

Mai shook her head. "I need to work," she said simply and he understood. It wasn't just the monetary gain; the act of working kept her calm and gave her something to focus on besides her problems.

"I tried," he said. "There was one thing that happened today."

"Oh?"

"I'd just locked up the office when a lady came looking for Naru."

Mai crinkled her brow. "Chiaki-chan came by earlier to collect him. He mentioned needing to meet up with Ayako, but after that, whatever she wanted to do."

"Well, neither of them put in an appearance at the office; Yasuhara-san and Takahashi-san didn't show up, either."

"Wow, you were all by yourself," she teased.

"Believe me, I wasn't upset. I got work done without interruptions."

"Tell me about the lady who arrived after hours."

He knew she'd ask—not out of jealousy, but because it got her thinking. Maybe she'd pick up on something early on. "A reporter," he said with disgust. "And dressed to the nines."

"Was she lost?"

"Doesn't look like it. No, she couldn't have been because she asked for Naru specifically."

"Did she have an actual case?"

"She said she did." Quickly, he recounted the lie she'd started to tell and then the story he'd finally pried out of her. "What is it?" he asked, noticing the expression on her face.

"I think we ought to take her case. I know my opinion doesn't mean much to Naru, sometimes, but I think that we should take her case."

"Why?"

"She's a reporter, right? We might be able to make use of her. I'm sure she can dig up dirt on McLaughlin, because he's digging up dirt on us."

He looked at her consideringly and nodded. "I'll pass that on to Naru. Did I mention that she was not only recording the conversation but video tapping it from the adjacent building _and_ in the office?"

"Really? How'd that go?"

"For her or me?"

"Her. I can see by the gleam in your eyes that you're still annoyed."

It was a novelty being known so well, being read so well. "Well…I'm certain that she's figured out by now that her efforts were in vain."

"But that's just going to spur her on," Mai commented.

"I know. But I got a camera out of it. It's a nice one, too. It's wireless and able to transmit back to a computer up to fifty feet away; it's an impressive little machine."

Mai rolled her eyes. Incredible, she decided. You could take the boy away from the geek and the geek still lurked. "I lost to a camera," she said in mock disappointment, shaking her head. "Guess I'll have to steal Naru back from Chiaki." Her breath rushed out of her when her back hit the mattress and his body held hers down firmly. She wasn't sure what had made that happen. Did he think she'd try? The look in his eyes was one that she'd seen before not too long ago on a case in Shibuya. "That was a joke," she told him, trying to make light of the situation.

"Is it? Still… I'll have to make sure it never becomes reality."

She'd only been joking. But he wasn't. He seemed serious. He _was_ serious, she realized. A small tremor went through her when she realized the possessive look in his eyes. "Lin…"

He cut her off. "I want you," he murmured against her lips. "Seeing you wear my shirt is the most erotic thing I've ever seen and damned if I know why. I wanted you right then and there when I saw you bundled up in it." His lips found her earlobe and toyed with it. She shivered and he continued. "A year ago… I had you in this very position in your apartment. Do you remember?"

She did. The memory was still vivid in her mind. She bit her lip as the memory ran its course. "I remember," she told him. "The lust spell. It…"

"Affected me too, yes," he finished for her, admitting out loud what she didn't want to remember. "Do you know what I was thinking when I saw your tears?"

She shook her head.

"Then let me show you." Keeping their eyes locked, he touched the first button on the shirt she wore. "That night," he started conversationally, "I woke because you were screaming. I tried to get you to tell me why, but you remained stubbornly silent and instead fed me lies. When I finally got you to talk, the spell came back full force and your tears… they…inspired me. I couldn't kiss them away as I so desperately wanted, nor could I do this." He undid the first button and pressed a kiss to the creamy skin that it revealed; she inhaled sharply. "But I wanted to. I so badly wanted to, especially since you gave me permission."

The second button came undone and his mouth sampled the skin revealed, his tongue lavishing the small area and delighting in her shuddering and writhing. "Do you remember, Mai? I scolded you for giving me permission like that, because you were completely free for the taking." The third button followed and then the fourth, all punctuated with a kiss as he went down the line. "I wanted you then," he said, locking eyes with her. "I want you now, more than ever. I nearly had you back at the Takamoto house. If that racket hadn't started…" he said trailing off. "I've wanted to make love to you for a year now…maybe longer. And I intend to do so thoroughly." He looked into her eyes. "I trust myself; do you?"

That voice… that dizzying voice that sounded as if it contained all the secrets of magic… and his eyes! "Yes," she whispered, putting her arms around him and offered her mouth to his. "Make love to me."

…

Naru watched Chiaki struggle with the puzzle she was working on; for him, he'd already seen its pattern in his mind and which piece needed to go where. Her little sister—the one who'd suggested they put the puzzle together—had long since given up and left in a disgusted huff. Chiaki, however, seemed bound and determined to at least get some of it done. She sat there at the table, legs neatly tucked under her, concealing their length and back ramrod straight, with a puzzle piece in her hand. She was scowling fiercely at the jigsaw and he sighed before sliding off the couch and sitting next to her. Taking the piece he fitted it where it needed to go and began to systematically put the rest together.

"You're so good at that," she commented, leaning her elbows on the table and watching.

He didn't answer.

"Must be nice to have such a high IQ," she said wistfully.

He glanced at her. "Not really."

She blinked. "No? Why not? You wouldn't have to work hard in school."

"But school's boring for me," he said, putting a large chunk off to the side. "Why do your parents like these things?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Search me. I don't think it's just puzzles; I think it's games in general. They met at a chess tournament. Why is school boring for you?"

"Because of my high intelligence," he said patiently. "Imagine being fifteen and in college."

"Doesn't sound so bad."

"Imagine being too smart for those classes, too—the highest classes offered."

She tried, but couldn't.

"That's why it was boring," he told her. "Sometimes, I'd just skip classes and let Eugene take my place."

Chiaki gasped, even as a wide, delighted smile crossed her face. "You played hooky?" she asked.

"I suppose I did. What of it?"

She shook her head, still grinning. "I'm just amazed…whoa," she exclaimed when she saw the puzzle. "You finished it," she whispered, awe-struck.

He smirked. "Child's play."

Chiaki shook her head again and stood up, suddenly. "Let's go do something normal."

"All right," he agreed. "What's normal?"

"Let's see a movie and grab some dinner."

He raised a sardonic brow. "A chick flick?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Do you like revolving sushi?"

He tilted his head to the side. "I've never had it."

She sighed. "Such a pity. Let's go." She grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the room. They were almost to the door when a voice stopped them.

"What about the puzzle, Chiaki-neesan? You're _not_ going to leave it for me, are you?"

_Little brat,_ she thought, glaring at her younger sister. Masami was a shorter version of Chiaki herself—something that Chiaki hated passionately. Her secret glee was that her baby sister was a bit on the pudgy side because she liked to eat sweets quite a lot and their parents gladly allowed her to. "Actually, yes I am," she told her, slipping her shoes on. "Kazuya and I are going out to do something normal."

She snorted. "A freak like you doesn't know how to be normal," she muttered.

"And what's normal?" Naru asked, his voice frozen as he watched Masami with eyes of glacial blue.

"Eh?" the younger girl asked, looking gob-smacked that someone had challenged her.

"I asked you what normal was. Pumpkins who claim normalcy should be able to tell abnormal people what normal is."

_Pumpkins?_ Chiaki wondered, watching her sister flush an unbecoming shade of puce.

"Whatever," Masami muttered, sticking her nose in the air. "I have to go finish that puzzle that my stupid sister couldn't do," she said, tossing her sister a nasty look.

Handing Chiaki her purse, Naru tugged on her hand and led her out of the house, but not before they both heard Masami shriek at the sight of the puzzle. Then, he closed the door, a wicked smirk on his face. Chiaki shook her head at him.

"You're trouble," she murmured.

He stayed silent, not denying it.

"And _don't_ tell me you didn't do it on purpose."

"All right, I won't," he agreed, still keeping her hand in his. "She's very full of herself, isn't she?"

"Masami-chan? Oh, yes. Mom and Dad spoil her rotten."

"So I noticed. Do they also think you're a freak?"

She stopped suddenly and he frowned when she tugged him to a halt. "Chiaki?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. He felt pity tug at his heart. He hadn't meant to bring up a touchy subject. His hand tightened around hers and pulled her over to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, touching the side of her face. "I should have known that it would be a touchy subject. I wasn't thinking."

"They're getting over it," she told him, tangling their fingers together and beginning to walk again at a leisurely pace. "After all, I told them that I had to get it from somewhere, because most of the Gellerini lost their powers. So in order for mine to remain, I had to get them from one side of the family."

"Chiaki, did they stick up for you when you went through that ordeal at Yuasa High?"

She laughed bitterly. "Of course they did. Imagine how it would look for them if their daughter had caused accidents and even a near death! But Masami changed. She was no longer the younger sister who looked up to me. She started to avoid me and my parents… well, they sort of tried, but they couldn't. I offered to move out and live on my own. Yuasa High allowed for their students to have jobs. When I told them that, they wouldn't hear of me going out on my own. I think personally they just wanted to keep track of me and make sure I didn't cause any more accidents."

"If it makes you feel better, give her a few years. That's when her abilities will manifest."

"I'm looking forward to it."

He said nothing in response, just continued to walk. "That sushi," he said finally.

She smiled. Maybe they'd work up to a kiss today, too. "Movie first. Do you like horror?"

He gave her a droll look and she smiled in return. "Chick flick it is!"

Naru groaned. One of these days, he lectured himself.

…

They finally fell asleep around three, a few brief hours of sleep that allowed their spent bodies a respite. At the crack of dawn, Lin woke Mai up, making love to her all over again. The sorcerer was up at eight the next morning and decided on coffee, strong and black. They weren't going to make it into the office until a bit later, he knew, taking a sip and feeling the caffeine kick start his sated system; it was amazing what a good bout of sex could do. Mai stumbled into the kitchen, wearing his shirt and lured, no doubt, by the smell of coffee. Lin thought he was sated; that went out the window as need, hotter than the coffee and more potent than the caffeine it contained, swept through him. Setting the coffee down, he pounced, lifted her up, braced her against the counter, and devoured her mouth. It was like he couldn't breathe without her, he thought; he couldn't get enough of her, either.

"Gods," she exclaimed, sinking onto the countertop. She wrapped her arms around him as he dropped his head onto her shoulder, shuddering. What had come over him? "Talk about the best way to wake up."

He made a small noise that she concluded was agreement. "We ought to start moving," he said, not relinquishing her from his arms.

She smiled wickedly and shifted, making him gasp. "What an excellent idea."

…

Madoka stared at the office suspiciously. She checked her phone clock to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. It was nine o'clock a.m. and Shibuya Psychic Research wasn't open to the public. She shook her head in wonder. Perhaps they'd just gotten back from a case at a very late hour and were sleeping off the effects. Short case, she mused, though S.P.R. picked up a few every now and again. Maybe Noll had copied Lin and gotten himself a girlfriend. Now there was a scary thought, she decided, unlocking the office and turning on the lights.

"Come on in," she called to Lee. "Welcome to Shibuya Psychic Research!"

"It's… empty and closed," he noted, walking in and looking around. The four desks in the room sat, unmanned; the computers, off. "I thought the place would be open," he drawled.

"They probably got back very late from a case," she said, dropping her purse on Yasuhara's desk and marching over to Lin's office. Unlocking the door, she glared at the Shikigami that snarled at her and swept over to the desk and began to boot up his computer. The Shiki snarled again and she gave it a droll look. "Well, go on and tattle on me," she told it in Japanese.

It hissed again and did just that.

"Now," she murmured, "what have you all been up to lately?"

Lee poked his head into the office before entering and feeling a small chill as he did. "You weren't talking to me, were you?"

"What?" She focused on him and through sheer force of will didn't blush. "Oh, no. No, I wasn't talking to you."

"Oh, good. I was going to say, if you were, you'll need to translate into English."

"You should probably step out until Lin disables the wards," she said, noticing the fine tremors running through his body.

"Wards?"

"A spell to keep things out," she said matter-of-factly.

"Wards, spells. Spells as in magic, right? Why don't you seem too badly affected?"

"His wards know me," she answered, looking through his recent files. When he didn't leave immediately, she looked up at him and smiled. "Go on. I'll be done soon."

He turned and left the office. Instantly, the chill that had begun to permeate his bones dissipated. What did a man like Lin have to worry about that he had to resort to magic? Couldn't he just back up his files onto DVD's and an external hard drive? The office probably did, regularly. The question remained: what did he have to worry about? He looked around perplexed; there was nothing for him to do. It was a novelty, really. Back in Georgia, there was always something to do. So, he sat on the chair and closed his eyes.

Alone again, she began to search through his files for the one about Annabelle. "Ah, here we are," she announced, bringing up the file and plugging in her thumb drive. She waited for the computer to register her device so she could add her files to his. As she did, she scrolled through other recent reports and frowned at one that had been created just yesterday. Double clicking on it, she began to read. _Oh, dear,_ she thought. _Another case in addition to getting rid of Annabelle._ That, of course, depended on Naru. Still, it was intriguing that a reporter of all people had brought SPR this case. Madoka was well aware that Naru and Lin didn't give interviews. Closing the report, she transferred her files and began to update his notes with hers and compile a new report.

When Lin walked into the office, he noticed that Naru still hadn't arrived. Faintly worried, he nodded a greeting to the American sitting in the common room; his fourth Shiki had informed him that Madoka was back with a guest in tow. Without breaking a stride, he turned back to the brunette investigator who was hanging her sweater in the closet. "Mai, would you go into the Records Room and start looking through old newspapers?"

"What am I looking for?" she asked, making her way to her desk. "Good morning!" she said brightly, in English.

Lin ignored the American eyeing him with what appeared to be avid interest. "You're looking for…well, strange deaths."

"Strange deaths?" she asked. "Anything more than strange deaths?"

Lin thought about it. "No," he said finally. "She didn't really tell me anything useful about the deaths. When Atsuka-san saw this specter, she was in her car. I can't actually guarantee that the others were in their cars—assuming they owned one—when they died, so I can't give you anything besides that. If Atsuka-san had trusted us and brought her research and findings… but no, it's no use to reminisce about what could have been. Start big, go back about four or five years—six tops. Then start to whittle it down. If we're going to convince Naru to take this case, we'll need more than your support of it being a good idea. I'll join you as soon as I can," he told her.

Something about the way that man said that, Lee thought to himself. He hadn't understood a word of it, but the connotation was there: the meaning that he'd meant something more. "The heater in your office seems to be broken," he said by way of greeting.

Lin turned to him and cocked his head to the side. "No need for the heat," he replied easily. "It's spring, after all." He titled his head to the side. "The wards don't know you, that's why."

"See, that's the second time I've heard that phrase: 'the wards don't know me.' And I'll be honest, I don't understand."

"What's hard to understand? There are wards around my office. Their purpose is to keep out all sorts of nasty creatures."

"Humans, too?" Lee asked dryly.

Lin shrugged. "Perhaps."

"So what do you have to worry about?"

"That's the unknown factor, isn't it? That's why I have them."

"But you'll disable them, right?" Lee asked, when the door opened again and a handsome pair walked in. The young man could be none other than Oliver—Madoka had shown him a picture of the tragic young man who'd moved to Japan to search for his brother's body. The girl at his side was quite the lovely picture with her slim, tall, frame and silvery hair.

"Let's start this again," Lin said. "I'm Koujo Lin," he told the man, extending a hand in his direction. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Lee Chamberlin, Atlanta PD-homicide," he responded, taking the other man's hand and giving it a firm shake.

"Welcome to Shibuya Psychic Research, Lieutenant. I won't disable those wards immediately. You'll have to prove yourself worthy of that."

"Guess so," Lee murmured. "So what can I do to prove myself? Would you like to know where Annabelle's lover lived? How about his name?"

_Well delivered,_ he thought, feeling a wave of gratitude for Madoka. She'd come through, after all; he knew she would.

"I would," he said. He wanted to know desperately. The prospect of exorcising Annabelle was so close that he could taste it. But first things first and Annabelle wasn't first right then. "But hold that thought for a moment, if you don't mind."

To Lee's immense puzzlement, Lin motioned to Naru and took a file out of his briefcase. Despite not being invited, Madoka immediately moved to join them. Lee thought they'd be annoyed at her intrusion, but the two simply seemed to accept it, even expect it.

"Do they want to know, or not?" he muttered. Of course, Madoka could tell them in his stead, there was nothing to stop her.

"I'm absolutely certain Lin-san does."

Starting at the English he hadn't expected to hear or have understood, the detective turned to find Chiaki looking at him.

She continued, now that she had his attention. "In fact, I'm sure that there's no one more interested in knowing, except, maybe, Mai-chan."

"Mai," Lee said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and surveying her. "I don't think I've formally met either of you ladies."

Chiaki smiled. "No, but we know who you are. Madoka-san's been keeping us updated on her progress in America. I'm Chiaki; Chiaki Kasai, and I'm an investigator."

Okay… that was new, Lee thought. He hadn't asked for her position. He wondered if it was customary to include that sort of information in an introduction. But neither the man who'd introduced himself as Lin or the young man Naru mentioned their positions here; actually, Naru hadn't introduced himself at all. In the end, Lee simply did the only thing he could—he shrugged.

Her smile widened at his flustered look. "Why don't I make some tea?" she asked, looking at Mai for an affirmative.

Tea? Uh… "Not to sound ungrateful, but I'm more of a coffee drinker."

Chiaki opened her mouth to reply, but Mai beat her to it. "Every so often Lin will drink coffee, too, like this morning." _This morning before he turned my bones to jelly,_ she thought. "And Bou-san _always_ drinks iced coffee, whether or not it's cold."

_Bo-san?_ Lee wondered. What kind of person had such a name?

"Both then," Chiaki said, nodding. She slipped away and made her way to the kitchen. She glanced briefly at the trio talking and nearly stopped to ask them if they wanted tea or coffee, but when she saw the look of intense concentration on her boyfriend's face, thought better of it. She'd make enough of both, she decided, going into the kitchenette.

_And then there were two,_ Lee thought, looking at Mai and giving her a quick assessment with cop eyes. She'd been gangly and somewhat clumsy when she was younger, he thought. Her current posture reflected ease and comfort with herself and her surroundings and revealed an iron will. She wasn't the startling beauty that Chiaki was but she radiated her own beauty and charm. "So you're Mai. I've heard a lot about you from Madoka."

Had he, she wondered. She didn't really doubt it and yet, she did; Madoka, wasn't the type to just tell people anything and everything. Still, she might have mentioned a few things. "I'm Mai," she agreed. "Mai Taniyama." Her lips curved into a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet; she was practically glowing. "Psychic Investigator."

"Shouldn't you be doing something in that room?" he asked, nodding to it.

She shrugged. "No point, now. Naru's here, instead of later like Lin thought he'd be."

He couldn't argue with that.

"You saw my report yesterday," Lin began, looking at Naru. "And watching you leave my office, I'm fairly confident you also saw it," he said, including Madoka into the conversation. "A potential new case," he said, not liking the way Naru began to scowl. He knew why: a reporter had brought it to Shibuya Psychic Research and Naru hated the media with a passion. "Mai, however, thinks we ought to take it. We might be able to use the reporter against McLaughlin."

"How?" Madoka asked, not loving the media any more than Naru. Still… the idea was starting to have merit. Using the media against a man like McLaughlin could get other countries started, especially if leaked right. An international scandal would bring the man down a few pegs.

"McLaughlin only thinks he's untouchable. And maybe in America, he is. But this is Japan. I can see you're already getting it," Lin said, nodding to Madoka.

"Mmhmm. Not half bad," she commented.

Naru stared at them. "Not half bad?" he asked. "We're all agreed that we really don't like reporters. They never give us a worthy edge on anything."

"But that can change this time," Lin said. "I've done my research on her. She's a well-known and syndicated columnist at the Tokyo _Shimbun_. She was asked to do a piece on psychic research facilities and she was responsible for completely discrediting Minami Psychic Research." Lin's lip curled into a faint sneer. "Seems like they were stupid enough to fall for the idiotic story she and her cameraman concocted."

"I knew they were fakes," Naru muttered. "But I don't need a reporter telling me what I knew from experience with them."

Lin nodded. "True. But the mass amount of people who turned to them didn't know. We never did say anything, because that brought unwanted attention to us. But if we take this case—even more if we undoubtedly solve it, then she's in our debt. Imagine what she could do for us."

Naru stared at his assistant. "You're quite vengeful."

"That's my girlfriend his goddamned ghost decided to possess."

_No,_ Madoka thought, staring at the seething man standing next to her. _Not girlfriend. That's his lover; they're lovers. I can't believe…_ She hadn't missed Mai's apparent happiness and glow; neither had Naru.

Naru was silent for a few minutes, considering the pros and cons of taking a case from a reporter of all things—a reporter who, according to Lin, was charged with writing pieces about the various psychic research facilities in Tokyo. Truthfully, once he'd figured out what was causing the problems at the Takamoto house, the case had ceased to hold his interest. Now, if Lin's report was accurate, this new case held the promise of being exciting.

"We all hate the press," Madoka said. "But sometimes, they can be quite helpful. This time, let's put prejudice aside."

…

And that discussion, Naru thought, landed them here, at the house of Atsuka Satsuki—a place she hadn't actually been back to in three or four months. It showed it, he decided, looking at the dead and decaying leaves that littered the walkway up to the house. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd been tricked –and for once in his life, he wasn't sure how it had happened. Turning, he saw Madoka and Lee talking in quiet tones. Chamberlin might actually prove useful, he thought. After all, he was a homicide cop. Naru wasn't sure how useful he'd prove, but he'd take what he could get from an American visiting—sorry, dragged along with Madoka.

Stifling a sigh, Naru turned his head to see Lin and Mai. Much like Madoka and Lee, they were discussing something in low tones; his head was bent down towards her and her face had tipped up to listen. He blinked. Wait. Since when was she that tall? She'd grown, he realized with a start. He would have thought that it was due to him standing on the steps and her being on level ground, but that wasn't it. She'd reached Lin's shoulder. When had she gained those inches? Just yesterday, it seemed, she had only been about four feet something to Lin's six foot four. Now, she stood at least five feet…six inches, maybe seven. He shook his head incredulously. Was he really that unobservant when it came to the world around him? He supposed he was.

Enough, he decided. It was time to get down to business. The others would arrive when they did. They'd make do without them for now; besides, he had enough people that they could get started now. He clapped his hands, making sure that he had everyone's attention.

In English he said, "Yasuhara-san, Chamberlin-san, help Lin with the equipment." Checking his watch, he continued, "Chiaki, Takahashi-san, split up and interview the immediate neighbors—see if they can corroborate what Atsuka-san told Lin; ask if they ever saw this specter and if they did, get a description. Madoka, Mai, help me with the set up of the base room."

"Wait a minute!" Lee objected. Naru paused and looked at him. "You want me to do what?" the man asked.

Now Naru did sigh. "If you're going to be here, Chamberlin-san, you're going to have to pull your weight. Help Lin and Yasuhara-san unload the equipment and bring it into the base room. Seeing as you weren't in residence when Atsuka-san dropped by, it's the third room down the hall—follow Lin if you're still not sure."

"And you're going to do what, again?"

Madoka very nearly groaned.

Naru stared at him impassively. "Chamberlin-san," he said slowly, "you're not in Atlanta and your position and rank mean nothing here. If you'd rather, you're more than welcome to leave. I don't have time to discuss the tasks that I've assigned." Turning on his heel, he began to walk up the rest of the steps, searching for the key that Atsuka-san had given them when they'd accepted her case.

Before he reached the door, he stopped and his eyes widened as the back of his neck started to tingle. He whirled around and stared across the street. Dimly, he noticed that Lin had already noticed her and was watching her calmly, but the sorcerer's body was rigid. Atsuka's description really hadn't done her any justice, Naru thought, crossing his arms and staring at the creature as it stared at them.

She—it—looked like something from a cheesy horror film. But this was no horror film that he was seeing on a screen. She stood there, across the street, hair water-logged, dirty, and disgusting with all manners of debris decorating the filthy tresses. The skin was a blue-gray color and even from this distance he could see the water dripping slowly onto the sidewalk. He resisted the urge to sigh—he was getting sick and tired of ghosts that dealt with water. But that mouth was exactly as Atsuka-san described: a dark, yawning, maw that had no teeth, only an inky black hole. The eyes that peered at them in that face were full of wrath, hatred, and a sly amusement.

Lee noticed the boy's attention on something across the street. He turned and stared. The creed to protect and defend, stamped into his very bones, had him stepping forward and reaching for a gun that wasn't at his side. Well, then, he'd improvise, he thought, casting his eyes around for something, anything, that could be used against… whatever it was that was staring at them and smiling. His eyes spied a dead branch and he took a step towards it, intent on grabbing it. Lee didn't know if it could be helpful, but it was _something_. Before he could lay a hand on it, a hand gripped his arm. He glanced at Madoka who, without taking her eyes off the specter across the street, nodded to Lin. Taking the hint, he noticed that the man had planted himself directly in the line of fire, so to speak, and there was an atmosphere about him, one that hadn't been there previously.

Slowly, still smiling, the thing disappeared as silently as it had appeared. The spell broke and Lin turned back to Naru. The two locked eyes and the younger man nodded, turning back to the doors and producing the key at last. Naru would admit whole-heartedly that he wasn't exactly amused with water-based spirits anymore, but this case had grown exponentially more interesting.

"Let's get to work, people," he commanded.

…

Satsuki's chopsticks dropped from her hand and her mouth gaped at the group gathered around her table. "You _saw_ her? Already? Is that normal?" she asked, looking at Lin.

Lin paused and lowered his chopsticks to the dish as he formulated a response. "There's no such thing as 'normal circumstances' in a paranormal investigation." He ignored the camera man's disbelieving snort. "In most cases, it is unusual to see a specter upon arrival, yes."

"Why is that?" Satsuki asked.

"You could say that spirits hide," Madoka said easily. "Like rabbits."

Jiro's snort became more pronounced. "But they're dead," he objected, pointing his chopsticks at Madoka. "What do they have to fear?"

Madoka blinked and turned to him. "Precisely what you said. They're already dead."

"Most spirits are easily exorcised," Takigawa said. He, Ayako, John, and Massko had arrived just as she disappeared; before she'd vanished, she'd looked over at the newly arrived group and to Takigawa, he'd seen a challenge. "Just as most hauntings are what we'd call residual."

Jiro shook his head. "You lost me," he said, looking towards Lin for an explanation.

_And why is everyone looking at me, again?_ the sorcerer wondered, shooting a glance to Naru who went on blissfully eating his meal. "For psychic researchers, investigators, there are two types of hauntings: residual and active. Residual haunting are the most common. The spirits in question are in a state of limbo, so to speak. They're trapped in the memory of how they died; who or what killed them, what they were doing before they died, etc. That's why they're called residual, because they're simply repeating something over and over again."

Jiro shrugged and gestured with his chopsticks. "So this ghost is caught in some sort of limbo, then?"

_I can't tell if he's just ignorant or stupid._ Lin smiled grimly. "Absolutely not. This ghost is an active haunting."

"That is?"

"The most dangerous and thankfully, the most rare type of haunting. Active hauntings can hurt people. This creature has hurt people before and if not stopped and exorcised, will hurt and kill again. It has a grudge, for some reason. It's our job to find out the reason for the grudge. Once we figure that out, we can best decide how to proceed."

_Later that night…_

Lin watched the monitors, checking for any anomalies. He glanced at Mai's reflection in the screen to the far bottom right. She typed away on a computer, and every so often checked her notebook where her report was written in neat English. He felt pride surge through him at her proficiency in English. English was not an easy language to learn, but she'd done very well—well enough that he couldn't see any overt mistakes that pegged her as a foreign writer of English. Something on one of the monitors caught his attention and he turned to it.

Shit. "Naru!" he called, rising. "Yasuhara-san, Mai, Takahashi-san, Kasai-san, Chamerblin-san, stay here!"

That said, he rushed out a few steps ahead of Naru, who was hot on his heels. A few seconds later, John, Takigawa, Madoka, and Ayako were following along with Masako.

Feeling a little miffed, but understanding his position, Mai saved her work and crept over to Yasuhara's side, peering at the monitors. Her eyes widened and she stood up, bolting out the door.

"Eh? Taniyama-san!" Yasuhara cried. "Come back here! Lin-san asked you to stay!"

"I can't!" she cried. "There's something wrong!" She knew that something wasn't right. And all she could think was getting to the people in the other room, especially Lin.

Yasuhara turned to his girlfriend. "I'll be back soon."

She nodded, frightened, but steady. "Come back safely."

He took off without another word.

"Hey! Wait! Don't just go off on your own! You don't know the situation!" Lee cried, scrambling up and going after them.

Too late. By the time he reached the room where they'd all gathered, there was nothing to be found except a trembling Satsuki.

"She's gone," Lee said, puzzled.

"No, she isn't," Mai said. "I can still sense her. Masako?"

"She's still here," the medium agreed.

_So she was,_ Lee thought dimly as she reappeared.

Naru whirled around and faced her. "Who are you?" he asked. "What do you want with Atsuka-san?"

For a moment, they didn't think she'd heard or understood. Then, she opened her mouth—that ugly, disgusting maw, and screeched. They all flinched at the sound that sounded like metal crunching and reshaping itself; Naru went flying into the opposite wall and Satsuki screamed in terror.

"Naru!" Lin cried, dashing over to the young man. The young ghost hunter groaned and shook his head. He looked up at Lin and then over his shoulder. Lin watched his eyes widen at something. A horrible feeling of foreboding filled him and he turned to watch Mai sail across the room. She hit the wall with a sickening thud and slid down into a slump.

"Mai!"

Madoka was by his side in an instant with Chiaki—another person who couldn't stay in the base room!—hot on her heels. "Go. I'll take care of him."

Lin needed no more encouragement. He was up in a flash and making his way over to her. He glared viciously at the ghost as if daring it to try and stop him from getting to Mai. Takigawa took a step forward to try and prepared to forcibly exorcise it when she disappeared, mad laughter following her.

"Oh God, oh God," Satsuki chanted, rocking herself. "I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"I'm sure you didn't," Madoka said. "Likely she's angry because you brought people in to try and solve your problem. And we will, make no mistake," she continued, watching Lin tend to Mai, who slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. Relief coursing through him, he crushed her to him, willing his heart to stop racing.

"I'm all right," she murmured. "Achy and woozy, but I'm all right."

"I told you to stay in the base room. Why didn't you?"

"Because it was a trick."

He sighed exasperatedly. "I knew that, you silly fool. I could sense that. I think all of us could. You could have been seriously hurt."

"But I'm not."

He eased back and looked her in the eyes. Cradling her face, he checked to make sure nothing was broken. Nothing seemed to be, so he exhaled the breath he'd been holding. "Next time I ask you to stay put, please just do it."

She bit her lip. "Okay," she said. "I'm—"

Relieved, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her in a rare display of open affection.

"I think," Madoka began, "that we need to set some ground rules, Atsuka-san. Specifically, what you may or may not print," she said, turning from Lin and Mai to the reporter who watched the scene, shell-shocked and disappointed. "Atsuka-san? May I have your attention, please?" Madoka asked, her voice scathing.

**A/N:** And this brings chapter seven to a close! In chapter eight we'll see just what the ghost haunting Satsuki wants and we'll see how McLaughlin deals with Lee being in Japan; we'll also see how SPR deals with both Jeffrey and McLaughlin in their midst.

P.S. reviews make me ecstatic. Won't you leave one? XD


	8. That Sorcerer, Conniving

**Chapter eight: That Sorcerer, conniving.**

**A/N: **So, let's get this over with. I don't own Ghost Hunt, Blue Bloods, Until Death Do Us Part, or Kuroshitsuji. References to Criminal Minds herein and miniscule Doctor Who. Many, many thanks to Adela for her beta-ing! Ah yes, I need to give due credit to J.D. Robb, whose _In Death_ series inspired Lee Chamberlin. Thank you, Robb-sensei!

_I wonder if I made the right choice _

_When I stood on the fork in the road at that time…_

_**~Crossroads, Ayumi Hamasaki**_

_ Lee walked up the steps to the door and pounded on it with his fist. "Jennifer, Roger, it's Lee," he called. "Guys? If you're home, answer the goddamn door!"_

_ He frowned and wondered, not for the first time, if he was burned out. It felt like it. This case… he just couldn't make heads or tails of it. Unexplained deaths were just the start—he had no proof, but he was sure that they seemed to go back further than McLaughlin was letting on. And he couldn't investigate any of that, thanks to the mayor, who was up for re-election and leaning on the police department to back off McLaughlin. He knew that the police didn't support or endorse him, so he turned to another source—one that had monetary clout. In return, all the mayor had to do was tell the police to stop investigating the deaths from the museum. It didn't help that Lee's captain was a spineless paper-pusher. Frowning, he pounded on the door again. Where the hell were they? How could they be gone when their daughter had a dance to prepare for? Jennifer was on pins and needles about it. For a moment, he wondered where Wade was—hadn't he been with Lee when they'd had to enter the Feeny home?_

_ "They're not at home," came a familiar drawl._

_ He turned to the right. "Mrs. Petrinski," he said, forcing a smile that was more a grimace. "How do you do?" _

_ Ah, that's right: in the after math of their daughter's death, Jane Petrinski would become a pillar for Jen and Bob._

_ "Well enough, Lieutenant Chamberlin, well enough. Jen and Bob aren't home—last minute shoppin'. Bethany should be, though. Saw her come home from school, lookin' despondent an' desperate as I ever seen a person look. She not answerin'?" _

_ "Doesn't look like it. Guess I'll try back later."_

_ "See that you do," the housewife said, locking the door and going down the steps to start her errands. _

_ Lee blew out a long breath and checked his watch. School had ended early today because it was the homecoming game and dance; kids were revving up for the game and what would hopefully be a victory dance. Bethany had been home for hours now. Maybe the girl was just asleep, but he didn't think so. His gut told him she wasn't, either. She'd been excited about the upcoming game and dance, especially because the guy she'd harbored a crush on had asked her to accompany him. And didn't that beat all? Bethany Lynn, social outcast in high school had gotten asked to the Home Coming Dance by the quarter back of her high school. He'd always thought it had been a pity-invitation. But whatever it was, Bethany had accepted whole-heartedly. Why fall asleep instead of spending the time getting ready? Lately though, he agreed with Wade. The girl he'd known since diapers wasn't acting like herself. Pulling his phone out, he dialed dispatch and stated his name, rank, badge number, and reason for entering the house without any such criminal provocation. _

_ Maybe she was just sleeping, he thought, keeping dispatch on the line and entering the house. If so, he'd take his lumps for disturbing her. "Bethany?" he called, looking around. _

_ He stopped when he saw the mess in the living room and felt his gut clench in anger and worry. It looked like a freak tornado had gone through the place. The smell, however, announced itself before he got to the stairs. His mouth bowed into a grim line. He knew that smell—it had crawled into his nostrils too many times. The smell of human waste and dried blood. Making his report to dispatch, he charged up the stairs, taking them three at a time. _

_ "Bethany!" he cried. "Bethany Lynn!"_

_ The lack of an answer was worse than if she'd replied. He threw open the door and there she was just as the smell indicated. Dead, dead and wearing the shoes, he saw. What did that mean? How did they leave the museum when they were under lock and key, literally? How had they left the museum when he knew Bethany hadn't been there today? The sixty-four million dollar question, however, was how had they left in the first place?_

_ He stared at her in dumb shock. He'd known there was something wrong with her. His mistake was thinking that just because she knew most of the cops in homicide, that she was safe. Now… now she was gone. She'd never laugh or speak again._

_ "You could have saved me." The whisper had him staring at her unmoving form—lips that were cold, open, and very dead. Lips that had forced him to give her her first kiss—Bob had bloodied his nose for that, he recalled with a grimace. Well for Christ's sake it'd been fucking new years! Bob watched his daughter sidle over to him and just as the year turned, she'd kissed him—her long time crush that he could never return._

_ He shook his head and willed the memory to dissipate as he surveyed the scene. _

_ "Why didn't you save me?"_

_ Lee frowned at the body, wondering if he wasn't losing his mind._

_ "I loved you, Lee Chamberlin; wasn't I enough for you?"_

_ He shook his head. "You didn't love me Bethany Lynn. You had a crush—a crush that I couldn't return. And now I'm damned because I couldn't save you or try hard enough to find out what was wrong with you."_

_ Now she sat up, all blood and gore with a snarl on her face. _

_ "Why didn't you try?"_

He woke up suddenly and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, breathing heavily. Just a dream, just a dream, he chanted to himself. It was just a dream—a nightmare. Bethany Lynn was dead. He'd been to the funeral and watched them lower the coffin. He'd said a few words and dropped a clump of dirt into the grave, silent tears running down his face.

_I did try, didn't I?_ Lee wondered. _I tried, of course I tried._ He sighed and dragged himself up. He looked at his watch. Oh four-forty-five in the morning. He ran his hand through his hair. There would be no more sleep tonight. Maybe he could put his investigative skills to use. Paranormal investigations, after all, were somewhat like mundane investigations, weren't they? Didn't a paranormal investigator use deductive and inductive skills to figure out why a place was haunted? He was a homicide detective, so he was qualified… he hoped.

_Later that morning:_

Yawning, Naru made his way into the base room, a headache pulsing in his skull. Caffeine—that was what he needed—a good strong cup of tea and some food, and his headache would go away. He wasn't expecting to see Lee Chamberlin in the base room, sipping at what he would later learn was his fifth cup of coffee and looking through scores of notes and print-outs and muttering to himself. Pausing, Naru inhaled the seductive smells of food from the room and felt his stomach rumble in response.

"Mornin'," Lee drawled. "Your client and her camera man went to work. Breakfast's over there," the detective finished, jabbing his pen over his shoulder at a table.

Atsuka-san had gone to work with a bunch of strangers in her house? Was she insane? He looked surreptitiously around for a camera or voice recorder, but all he saw was his own equipment. Maybe she'd tapped into their system. Wouldn't that be funny? He'd ask Lin to run a diagnostic to see if that was so. At the moment, there was nothing Naru could do, so he moved over to the table where the food was, his stomach complaining loudly at the smells.

"Eat," Lee commanded.

Naru looked at him. "What's in the carafe?"

"Coffee."

"Coffee? Where'd you find that?" Naru asked a little disgruntled by the answer.

"In the same place as the food. Look, I don't know how to make tea with the leaves. Never did and that's all she had. Never drank the stuff hot, either. So I didn't make any."

Naru frowned. He understood, that didn't mean he liked it, but he understood. Grabbing a plate and fork, he carried it back to the table Lee was at and sat, looking at the paperwork.

"What are you doing?" he asked, removing the foil and revealing scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and a biscuit. He stared at the plate, amazed. Had Atsuka-san made this, or had Lieutenant Chamberlin? Setting aside the foil, he removed the bacon and sausage.

"Eat those," Lee told him.

Naru held some potatoes suspended. "What?"

"The sausage and bacon. I know, I know. Madoka told me that you and Lin won't eat meat on your cases, but make an exception this time, pain-relievers work better on a full stomach and, no offense boy, but you look like you _need_ the protein. Lin made an exception, too, though he wasn't happy about it." Lee sweetened the pot by holding up a bottle of Tylenol and shaking it.

Lin had made an exception to his iron clad rule? Naru wondered if he was staring at Lee in shock. Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked at the bacon and sausage and decided that this once he could deviate. If Lin could then so could he. Slowly, he put them back on his plate. "What are you doing?" he asked again.

"What I do best: investigating."

Picking up a piece of bacon, he crunched into it and nearly moaned in pleasure. He'd forgotten how good bacon could be when he was hungry. "But you investigate the mundane, not the paranormal."

"Homicide isn't mundane," Lee corrected, looking at Naru with an angry frown. For some reason, it surprised the young ghost hunter to see how exhausted Lee looked—as if he hadn't slept at all.

The man continued, "Awful, and that's being nice, but certainly not mundane. If anything, I could say the same about being a paranormal investigator. How many cases do you actually get with spirits that can harm you?"

_Not that many,_ Naru conceded mentally, leveling a glare at the detective who sat across from him. There'd been more since he'd opened Shibuya Psychic Research, but overall, there weren't many cases he'd encountered where spirits could actually harm a living person. He knew what Lee was going to say next, however.

"Murderers, however, can harm people—in fact, if they've committed murder, they have harmed people. And some don't care about the innocent by-standers."

Forking up some eggs, Naru changed the subject. "What have you found so far?"

"First day we met, Lin asked Mai to start a search for something. Earlier, I asked him to translate for me: suspicious deaths. The problem is that there're too many 'suspicious deaths' here in Shibuya alone; she'd never have gotten anywhere, even with the addendum of five or ten years back. It sounded like a solid route, so I worked on whittling that down. I don't have Atsuka's information, but I didn't really need it. I can't actually be certain that she found anything." He looked troubled for a moment then sighed. "Look, maybe it's just me, reading too much into it, and pushing American Journalism, which I have little to no respect for, on her, but it seems to me that she's…" he hesitated, "she's being evasive deliberately. I'd call it sloppy, but I don't think so—she's being cagey. According to Lin, she came to him as a journalist. And if he's right and I'm sure he is, then she did her homework about your company—anything she could use to get you out here. And it worked—she has a problem, we all saw it. What bothers me is the lack of information coming from her. Information that she assured Lin she had. Where is it? She just ups and goes to work with a bunch of strangers in her house while she's withholding information?" Lee shook his head. "It doesn't sit right."

Certainly true, but at that moment, Naru couldn't very well do anything about it.

A ghost of a smile crossed Lee's face. "If I were home, I'd probably haul her into the station and demand answers, but this isn't Atlanta."

"How did you whittle your information down?" Naru asked, putting the puzzle of Atsuka-san aside.

"Small blessing: Lin's notes are in English. Ms. Atsuka mentioned encountering this ghost on a road she was driving along. So I started to look for suspicious deaths with cars." Lee shook his head. "Still too many matches. So I turned to Lin's note about what the creature said to Ms. Atsuka—that she was 'the last.'"

When the detective first started to speak, Naru hadn't been impressed. But now, he found himself seeing the detective with new respect. "Go on."

Lee thought he heard approval in the younger man's voice. Mentally shrugging, he continued with his findings. "Saying that she's the last… the last to die—to be killed, whichever, tells me that this has happened _before_, other victims, maybe different regions of Japan, but still the same M.O. I kept with the suspicious car deaths, but plugged in another addendum: ages between twenty-five and thirty-five because if your client is over thirty-five I'll eat my shirt."

Naru began to feel that familiar tingle. The tingle that told him that they were on the right track—or rather, Lieutenant Chamberlin was on the right track. "And?"

Lee smiled at the demand. "Pay dirt. That got me about forty matches."

Forty matches. It'd be easy enough to whittle that down even further. His brain went into over-drive as he started to think of a filter for the remaining matches. "I'll have to sift through those names," he mused.

"You may not need to," Lee said. He smiled when Naru looked at him. "I never said I was done."

"What do you mean?"

"I had a lot of time this morning to think while I was making breakfast—yes," he said, smirking at the look on Naru's face before his features smoothed out and returning to their emotionless state—"I do know how to cook—I don't eat take out just because I'm a bachelor. Anyhow. I called a local police station and told them that I was working on a census for a car dealership and I needed information on these accidents to see which cars were the same make and models and the conclusions of the investigators—research for improvement, I told them. The reports aren't complete as to be expected, but I got enough. I plugged the reports into a translator and got the basic gist.

"Thirty of the accidents weren't suspicious—some reports you can tell that whomever wrote them didn't know a damn thing about mechanics; some are due to the drivers just not understanding that cars need tune ups every-so-often, or that the car can't run without oil and anti-freeze." He shook his head. "Stupid shit. But then, I've seen the same in America, so I can't really pass judgment. But out of those remaining ten, five of them have no reason or cause for malfunctions. There were no maintenance issues, no mechanical or technical issues. They just… stopped working. And the kicker? The ages range from twenty-five to thirty-five."

Lee sat back, looking pleased with his accomplishment. Naru couldn't blame him, either, being in a strange land, surrounded by a strange language, and finding all that information before nine in the morning.

"By the way… your client? She was born two years ago."

Naru's gaze sharpened. "What?"

"Satsuki Atsuka didn't exist before two years ago. I couldn't get very far finding out why or what her name was, but… I thought you'd find it interesting."

"You looked into our client?"

Lee couldn't deny the small thump of pride when he heard the kid say 'our.' "I did. I believe in being thorough. And let me tell you, there's a scant amount of information about her that _I_ could find. And that I find suspicious."

The young ghost hunter had to agree—it _was_ suspicious. It was probably a legitimately done name-change since Chamberlin hadn't gotten very far, but it was an interesting to know that she'd changed her name in the first place. If he were a betting man, he'd say it was because of this ghost— creature, whatever it was. He wandered over to the carafes. Just because coffee wasn't his drink of choice didn't mean he was going to deny himself the caffeine. Pouring some into a mug, he added a liberal amount of cream and a few spoonfuls of sugar. He took a sip, fought the grimace that threatened to break out, and added more sugar.

He could feel the Tylenol beginning to work. The edges of his headache began to soften, making the pain a bit more bearable. Suddenly ravenous, he grabbed another plate, disregarding the bacon and sausage, and began to shovel the food into his mouth, thinking rapidly. A vendetta—obviously—especially in the light of a name change. The question that remained at that point was: were they dealing with a ghost, or some sort of curse? He thought back to yesterday, picturing the creature. Dripping wet, filthy, debris in its hair. The clothing was old-fashioned—more modern than Hara-san's kimono's and yukata's, but still old-fashioned. The skirt had been long, ankle length. The top was also long sleeved and shabby, threadbare… cheap. Whoever she had been, she hadn't had a lot of money.

So how did that tie in with Atsuka-san's name change? He looked back at the pile that Chamberlin had put together—the names with accidents that made no sense. What if there was a connection between all of the victims _and_ Atsuka-san? Now that made sense. His fork encountered emptiness and he looked down at the plate, perplexed to find it empty; the bacon and sausage (which he distinctly recalled setting aside) and coffee were also gone. He set the empty plate down and looked up, finding Chamberlin watching him with small smirk.

"Hungry, were you?"

Naru didn't answer. He strode over to the table and reached for the smallest pile of papers. "The accidents that make no sense?"

"Yep."

"Good." He scooped up the papers. "Let's go."

"Go? Me?"

"Yes, you." Naru paused. "Unless you thought I was asking the ghost behind you?"

Starting, Lee whirled around and saw nothing. Turning back to Naru he glared. "Oh, you're funny," he deadpanned. "Absolutely hilarious. Where're we going?"

"The West Setagaya Police Station. I have an acquaintance on the police force."

Lee raised a brow. "I don't know why I'm surprised to hear that."

Naru ignored him and strode over to the door, nearly crashing into Lin.

"Going somewhere?" the sorcerer asked, glancing at the pile of papers in Naru's hand.

"Detective Hirota," the boy answered.

"Understood. I'll get my keys."

"Don't you want to stay with Mai?" Naru asked shrewdly.

For a moment, Lin looked upset. "I do. Of course I do. Annabelle's contained for now, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "but your safety is still my top priority. Matsuzaki-san, Takigawa-san, and Yasuhara-san left to do research on the house and they haven't returned yet." Lin shrugged. "Don't give me that look. I told them it was a waste of time, but they wanted to be absolutely sure before they rule it out. We've trained them well, doctor," he said, giving him a sardonic smile. "Madoka, Hara-san, and Kasai-san can stay here and watch over Mai; she'll understand."

"Doctor who?" Lee wondered.

Naru glared at Lin but sighed. "Me," he told him. "Doctor Oliver Davis."

"Huh." For some reason, he wasn't surprised to find that the young man had such a title. "You know, Madoka could come with us," Lee suggested. "That way, you can stay with Mai."

Lin was silent, contemplating the options. Either he left Mai in Madoka's care, or Madoka went with Naru and Chamerblin, plus one of his Shiki. "I'll leave it up to Madoka," he told them, leaving the base room. "The wards are up. And I find it suspicious that Atsuka-san was trusting enough to go into work with her camera man and leave us here. _Especially _when she knows she's a target."

"So do I," Lee agreed. "Sits wrong with me."

Lin looked at him soberly and then nodded. "Good. We all agree that there's a lot she isn't revealing."

"The question is, is it important?" Naru voiced.

"The unknown variable," the sorcerer said approvingly. "What isn't she telling us and is it important?" He shrugged. "It might not be. But all the same, I'd like to know." He walked down the hall and into another hallway. Stopping at the first room down the hall, he tapped on the door to the room that Madoka shared with Matsuzaki-san. When Madoka appeared, he relayed what Naru wanted and left it at that.

"I'll go. I don't mind," she said. "That way, you can stay with Mai and Hara-san—who I don't think will be with us much longer."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"She got a call from her grandmother. I don't think she'll be part of this case for much longer."

Lin sighed. There went Hara-san performing a séance. "One hurdle at a time. If that's the case, we'll deal with it if and when."

…

_Manhattan, New York, New York P.D. Office of the Commissioner—_

Detective Melissa Baker gave the door in front of her a perfunctory knock before entering the spacious office of the Police Commissioner. He sat at his desk, a pair of glasses perched on his nose and his face a study of concentration. She hated to interrupt him, but she had no choice.

"Sir… there are two detectives who say they need to speak to you."

"Take a message, Baker," he ordered, not looking up from the documents he was studying.

Baker paused, trying to convey…well, she wasn't sure what. "Sir," she tried again, "they're calling from Japan."

He looked up quickly and she congratulated herself on getting his attention; it wasn't necessarily the kind of attention she wanted, but she'd gotten it all the same.

"Japan? Did they give you any reason?" Frank asked.

"No, sir. But they're on Skype."

He stood, work forgotten. He was a tall, strapping man with craggy lines running down his cheeks from dimples. He exuded power and command and underneath that exterior was a dangerous man not to be trifled with. He motioned to the laptop sitting on his desk. "Patch them through, Baker. Can we put it on the TV screen?"

"Yes, sir; I should be able to."

Approaching the computer, she took it over to the television and connected the laptop to it and logged into Skype. They were waiting and from the looks of things, they'd also plugged in a computer to a bigger screen. Frank pursed his lips, studying the foreign detectives. Plain clothes—neat, but nothing extravagant. No ties, badges on either a shirt pocket or belt—belt in the dark –haired one's case, and the shirt for the other. Gun at the tawny-haired detective's side and the other must have been in a shoulder holster. They didn't look very different from his own detectives, he noted.

"Gentlemen," he said, nodding his head at them. "I'm Police Commissioner Frank Reagan of New York. Do we need a translator before we begin?"

"Not at all," the dark haired one said in English. "Feel free to converse in English. I'm sure it's easier for you than finding a translator."

"So it is," Frank conceded. Especially since he didn't know of a Japanese speaking cop under his command. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

The tawny-haired detective smiled slightly. "Sir, Seigi Hirota. My associate, Teppei Genda. We were wondering if you had a few minutes of time and a way to contact your son, Daniel."

"Danny?" Frank asked, as suspicious as he was surprised. "What for?"

"You recognize this man, right?" Genda asked, showing him Samuel McLaughlin's picture.

Frank's gut clenched and he frowned viciously. "I'll call Detectives Reagan and Curatola. They worked those cases."

"We appreciate it, Commissioner Reagan."

…

Danny Reagan took a sip of his tepid coffee, too used to it to wince. It was horrible. Whoever made this batch, like every other batch, should never be allowed to touch a coffee maker. He shrugged mentally. The coffee might've been poison—it certainly felt like it in his stomach—but it contained caffeine and caffeine he needed. He stared at the computer screen—at the pictures that made a macabre display. Turning from the photos, he picked up the Medical Examiner's reports and read it again, scouring for anything he'd missed. There had to be something, he told himself. Had to be. He didn't have anything solid, except that they were all girls.

"Still puzzling over that?" Jackie asked, knowing that the eight bodies still bothered him. It was a cold case now. And though neither of them could definitively prove it, they knew that Samuel McLaughlin and his collection had something to do with it.

"Yeah. There's gotta be something we missed. But whatever that is, damned if I can figure it out." He waved the ME reports at her. "All victims had extensive damage in their knees and ankles," he began.

Jackie nodded as the details came back to her. "Consistent with prolonged running, dancing, and any like sports." She shook her head. "But none of the victims participated in any of those activities."

"Right. And then there's the lacerations. The ME _thinks_ that the victims received them all at once. She thinks that maybe, maybe, it could have been wires of some sort. But she's not willing to swear to it."

Jackie shook her head. That had stumped her, too. The dancing perhaps she'd been able to figure out—maybe they'd been forced to dance as a sick form of entertainment for Samuel McLaughlin. But the cuts? She had no clue about them any more than Danny or the Medical Examiner had.

Danny opened his mouth to continue, but before he could, the Sergeant came out of his office and over to their desks.

"Hey Reagan, Curatola, the Commissioner wants to see you both. Those the dead girls from the museum? Bring those reports, too," the man ordered. "Well get going," he told them when they stared at him. "It's not like you can keep the Commissioner waiting when he calls. Move it, move it."

Sharing a look, they climbed to their feet, replacing guns in holsters and badges in sight. Picking up the papers, Danny stuffed them back into the folder and walked out of the squad room and to his father's office.

The good thing about Police Headquarters was that the Commissioner worked in the same building—just many floors above the rest. When Danny and Jackie arrived, Detective Baker opened the door before they could knock and ushered them inside. It had to be serious, Danny decided, nodding to the detective who looked more like a secretary. He looked at his father and dipped his head respectfully. "Commissioner, sir."

"Detectives. At ease. Allow me to introduce you both to Detectives Seigi Hirota and Teppei Genda from Tokyo."

"Tokyo?" Danny questioned, peering at the screen. Jackie stayed silent and observed, wondering what detectives from Tokyo needed with two New York detectives. She'd have to wait until they explained their business, but… something told her she wasn't going to like their reason. Danny was in agreement with her thoughts, even if she didn't know it one-hundred percent.

She tilted her head and studied them. They didn't look so different, she decided. The light haired guy had an easy smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Cop eyes that saw everything. The other guy looked like he was never off-duty. His face was somber, grim even. And neither man wore a wedding band, telling Danny that they were the job, twenty-four seven. He was thankful that he could turn it off and be with Linda and the kids.

"Nice to meet ya. How can we help the boys in blue in Japan?"

"Actually, we wear green here," Genda said, his English liberally accented, but fluent nonetheless.

"Green?" Danny asked, shaking his head, only slightly surprised by ease of the other man's spoken English. "Well no offense, but it sounds wrong to say boys in green."

Genda grinned. "When you put it that way, I might have to agree."

"Different countries," Hirota murmured.

"At least tell me if the coffee over there is just as bad," Danny asked, nodding to the cup in Genda's hand.

"Coffee?" A rueful smile lit the detective's face. "This is tea, actually." He smirked. "You might want to try some one day."

"Hell no. My wife drinks that stuff. Me, I'll stick with the bad coffee that's likely poison."

"Suit yourself."

"Don't mind him," Jackie said, before her partner could reply. "What can we do for you gentlemen?"

Getting down to business, Hirota punched a few keys on the laptop in front of him. "You both know this man, right? McLaughlin Samuel, known to every police detective we've talked to as 'rat bastard.'"

"Yeah, we know the smug, greedy bastard. Doesn't give a rat's ass about the kids killed because of his collection and make no mistake, we know his collection's responsible for it."

"Are you aware that the collection has briefly toured Europe and is now in Japan?"

Danny felt his gut clench. "How many victims?" he asked quietly.

"None, yet. And we intend to keep it that way."

"Then what do you need us for?" Jackie asked.

"We were told there was something unusual about your victims versus the other state's victims and that it was the last state that the collection visited before going overseas."

Danny began to understand why they'd been ordered to bring that report. Opening the folder, he removed the Medical Examiner's testimony and said, "You already know about the damage in the ankles and knees, but the difference is the lacerations that the ME couldn't figure out. She didn't know what made them; she hazard that perhaps they'd been created by wires, but she did conclude that they'd been created roughly at the exact same time—all sixty-seven of them all over the bodies."

Hirota and Genda looked grim and shared a look.

"Kamaitachi?" Genda asked looking at his colleague.

"I'd say so. And that's bad news."

"Kamaitachi is what?" Danny asked, barely stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

"The ability to cut things at a distance without the use of knives or wires. Literally, cutting with wind," Hirota answered.

Danny rubbed the stubble on his face, trying to decide whether or not to believe what they were saying. He kept it in reserve—if they were quacks, he'd have an amusing story to tell at Sunday Dinner. "Either of you ever encountered it?"

Genda frowned and stared at the tiles beneath his feet, telling Danny that he hadn't. Hirota, however, was a surprise.

"I have," the tawny-haired detective told them, laying a hand on his left arm. Genda stared at him in shock. "I have the scars to prove it and the incident recorded on a video tape." He looked at Danny knowingly. "You wanted to hear otherwise."

"Well, yeah," Danny said honestly. "So if that's what it was, what does it mean?"

"It means that Annabelle is growing tired of empty promises." The voice that spoke said it in flawless English.

At the new voice, Hirota closed his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh. Genda turned to see the newcomers and frowned. How had they gotten in here? Then he recognized Shibuya-san from the Takamoto house.

"Shibuya-san, what are you doing here?" Hirota asked in English.

"We could ask the same of Lieutenant Chamberlin," Frank said, nodding to the man.

Lee shrugged and smiled—a real smile. "I'm taking a well-deserved vacation and I'm here as a tourist," he finished, opening his jacket and spinning in a circle showing that his badge and gun were nowhere to be seen.

"A vacation in the same country as one Samuel McLaughlin, no less."

Lee shrugged again. "I understand how it could look, Commissioner Reagan. But I promise you that I've had no contact with Mr. McLaughlin and that I'm here strictly in a consultary sense. I can't stop you, sir, from reaching out to my own Captain or Commissioner and telling them about this, but I would hope that you won't."

Frank sighed. Strictly, it wasn't his place to chastise a detective from a state not his own. He could contact the Commissioner of Georgia, but why should he? "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I won't contact your superiors. But do take in the hot springs, won't you? I've heard they're excellent for relaxation."

Lee smiled. "I'll put that on my list, Commissioner Reagan. Thank you, sir."

"Shibuya-san, can you afford to be here right now?" Hirota asked. "Doesn't Taniyama-san need you more?"

"Lin's with her," he said undeterred. "And she understands priorities. I could also ask you the same question. I thought you and Detective Genda were going to interview McLaughlin-san. He's in Shibuya now."

"We know," Hirota said, smiling at the look of thinly veiled surprise on Naru's face. "We just wanted to verify a few things before we went to chat with him. More importantly, what do _you_ want?"

Naru held up the folder and Hirota excused himself, leaving Genda, Madoka, and Lee with the detectives from New York. An awkward silence descended and Lee looked curiously at the computer. A picture of McLaughlin was sitting on the desktop and reflected on the screen connecting the officers. He tilted his head to the side, thinking. What did New York have that the other states didn't? Oh, right, they had the strange lacerations—now he remembered. Did England have the same? He thought they did. And it was with chilling clarity that he realized that if S.P.R. couldn't solve this problem, they too would have lacerations decorating a body—or bodies. But aside from that, they really had quite a lot of common ground. A collection that had caused a lot of deaths and an owner that knew…

"He mentioned an Annabelle," Jackie said, nodding to the dark-haired boy talking with Detective Hirota. "Who's Annabelle? We never encountered anyone named Annabelle in our investigation." Jackie's question had effective shattered Lee's train of thought.

"You won't like the answer," Lee told her, rubbing his chin. "It'll test every belief in logic."

"Try me anyways."

"The shoes that the victims were found wearing? Annabelle's a—the—ghost possessing them." He aimed a wry smile at her. "She's the real culprit."

"Oh, real funny," Danny said angrily. "I hadn't realized you'd joined a cult, Lieutenant."

Lee shook his head. He'd been expecting that reply. The anger that flooded him surprised him, however and he tried unsuccessfully to shake it off. "I told you that you wouldn't like the answer. You think I was lyin'? You think it wasn't hard for _me_ to swallow, too?"

"Sherlock Holmes said, 'Once you have discounted the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'" It seemed as if Hirota was finished with his conversation. He rejoined the meeting and crossed his arms, frowning. "Let me lay it out for you. I'm beyond sure that you've already contacted your Behavioral Analysis Unit attached to the FBI—am I right? I see that I am. They agree—you've got one Unknown Subject—unsub, to use their term, doing this." He began to tick off points. "First you have the victims themselves—the outcasts. And their behavioral changes that most people who knew them told you was an unusual change in mood; the damage in the knees and ankles, consistent with dancing when none of the victims danced, ran, jumped, so on. The next point: shoes somehow_ leaving_ the museum despite being under lock and key. Now in New York we see the first change that became consistent with other cases in England: the lacerations," he said, confirming Lee's thoughts.

"There's no way a human," he continued, emphasizing the words 'a human,' "could have created those cuts. Not simultaneously, as your medical examiner claims that they are. So if a _human_ can't do it, and there's agreement across the board that there's only one unsub, then what's left?"

"It's not unusual to find that something from the Civil War would be haunted," Naru said, joining the conversation. "Most of the time, it's houses, plantations. But some objects will have the emotional ties needed to tether a spirit. Most of the time, they're just…memories, what we paranormal researchers call 'residual haunting.' But… the shoes being on the victims feet makes it an active haunting—the ghost in question is looking for something and won't stop until someone figures it out and gives it to them. It goes back to that quote—when everything else is discounted, then the truth remains, no matter how it sounds. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, that's what we're dealing with."

"A ghost," Danny said. He shook his head trying to wrap his head around it. The young man that had joined the conversation seemed sincere. "You… believe that ghosts and such exist?"

"Exist is a strong word, Detective Reagan. I believe that paranormal psychology warrants being studied and accepted as a science," he answered.

_He reminds me of Jamie!_ Danny thought.

During the speeches from Detective Hirota and Shibuya-san, Lee allowed his mind to wander back to his train of thought—something about McLaughlin knowing… knowing…what? He knew something. His mind travelled back to Sheena DeLain's interview. Annabelle, she'd told them had been at this for a very long time. She wanted something and McLaughlin knew that. And he also knew that the victims couldn't solve the puzzle with such sketchy details… therefore, _therefore_, he _knew_ that whoever was possessed by Annabelle was going to die.

"Holy fucking shit," he breathed, receiving stares of surprise. "Holy fucking shit," he repeated.

"Feel like sharing?" Danny asked.

"Just a moment," he told them. Turning to Madoka, he crushed her mouth to his. "Thank you," he told her. "If you hadn't allowed me to accompany you to the DeLain's I'd have never connected it." He kissed her again, softer this time, a promise, and marched back to the center of the room, leaving Madoka shaken. "Work with me, y'all. He _knows_." He pointed to Madoka. "She knows, too—'she' being Sheena DeLain, McLaughlin's sister. They _know_. He knows what Annabelle wants, contrary to what he says. He knows that the details are so vague that the victims can't solve it and he knows that because they can't figure it out, Annabelle will kill them. They also know it'll happen whatever state they go to. I'd say he, particularly, counts on it. He waits for it to happen so he can profit off the victims' families."

"Profits how?" Madoka asked.

"I'm sure you know by now that not all the victims are orphans—only some. Some of them have families. What McLaughlin does with those that do have families is threaten to press charges for theft _if_ they don't pay him," Lee commented. His disgust could be easily read.

Naru frowned. "He extorts them."

"In a nutshell, yes. And with the families grief-ridden, it's just more icing on the cake. They normally pay him because he doesn't ask for an exorbitant amount." Lee's mind moved away from McLaughlin and back to Annabelle. He looked at Madoka. "What was it you told the other detectives in the conference call? What's she finding?"

"Mediums," she answered.

"Mediums? Like psychics?" Jackie asked. Her night-shift had just gone from boring to weird.

"Exactly! Mediums, who can, potentially, give her what she wants."

"And that would be?"

"One last dance," Madoka answered, fingering the bruises that her long-sleeved shirt hid. "One last dance with the only man that ever mattered to her."

"But a medium would know how to handle a ghost and how to keep it from possessing them," Baker said, trying to instill some logic into the conversation.

"That's if they're aware of their talent." Naru's blue eyes narrowed in thought as he recalled what Madoka's report about the other victims. Social outcasts, 'imaginary friends,' few live friends… it fit. "Some don't know; they were raised to believe that the dead were just that. The fact is that to the truly powerful mediums, the dead look no different from the living. Normal people can't see what a medium can, so they think the other is strange—touched in the head, weird," Naru said with a sneer.

"So the T.V. ones…?" Jackie prompted.

"Mediocre talents, usually," Madoka told her. "The truly powerful mediums don't broadcast what they can do."

"The point is, they _know_. Sheena DeLain told me as much when she sat down and chatted with Ms. Mori."

Frank's lips pursed in surprise. "Well that changes everything, doesn't it?" he asked, looking at his son and his partner.

"It does," Lee said. "Think about it. McLaughlin knows that anyone possessed by Annabelle is going to die because they don't know what Annabelle wants. They're not investigators; they're just kids. McLaughlin sits back and waits. And then, as I stated, sues the families of the victims because they 'stole property.' If you swing it right, it could be second degree murder."

"You'd have a hard time swinging that—you'd have a hard time swinging murder, period."

"Maybe, but maybe not. Murder one is premeditated; murder two no premeditation, but intent: the intent that they would die if chosen. These girls were social outcasts, but none of them had any sort of record, so there's no vigilantism here. Even a sealed juvie record would show up during an investigation. Then there's the shoes themselves—not the most valuable piece in the collection, but when they were found, they looked like they'd never touched the ground."

"And we've all been asking ourselves with each victim 'how did they get them out of the museum?'" Baker reminded them.

"And why the shoes instead of say… one of those priceless necklaces or broaches?" Lee commented.

"Good points all around," Frank said. "It's the act of knowing. He knows it'll happen and he knows those chosen ladies will die."

"I'd say that makes him responsible—him and his crony and his sister, too," Danny said.

"This is going to break the bank," Jackie stated.

"And maybe, just maybe, bring some closure to those families," Danny said. "I know the mayor loved McLaughlin and his sizeable monetary donation, scum bag. The D.A.? Not so much. I'll run this by Erin and see what she says." He paused and looked at Naru. "Look… it might not be my place to say anything, seeing as I'm not one-hundred percent convinced and all, but… that girl you're trying to protect—the one that may or may not be possessed?"

"Yes?"

"You tell her not to give up. You tell her that Danny Reagan told her that she needs to beat McLaughlin. You tell her I said that and that when this is all said and done, and McLaughlin is serving life in prison somewhere or penniless and broke, that I want to shake her hand. You tell her that."

Naru looked at him steadily for a moment and nodded. "I'll tell Mai."

"Let's have another Skype session in a few hours—well, text me and let me know of a good time—there's a sizeable time difference here."

"And you all work the law-magic. Leave the paranormal investigating to us—it's what we do best," Madoka said, looking at Naru to include him, as well.

Said investigator nodded. "We'll find a way to give Annabelle what she wants and help her move on. I already have an idea of that. And I'll make sure Lin installs Skype on the computers if it's not already there."

"We'll be talking to you soon, then. Good hunting, all." The images faded as the Commissioner and his small crew signed off.

Genda leaned back and said, "Is now a good time to mention that we have a recorded conversation between McLaughlin and his secretary about Mai-san and Annabelle?"

All eyes turned to him.

"You should have mentioned that earlier," Naru said reproachfully.

Genda shrugged. "What could the Americans have done with it? I'm no expert on International Law, but I'm fairly sure they'd have to work some fancy footwork in America just to use it. Here in Japan, I know the laws and I know what we can do with the recording. You got what you came for, didn't you? Then go," he commanded when Naru nodded. "We have a foreigner to chat with."

…

Samuel sat at the window in his hotel room and stared at the hustle and bustle of Shibuya, a frown etched onto his face. He was at a loss to understand why things were going so awry. It should have been routine, he knew. He'd been going on for at least a decade. Annabelle finds someone to possess and when they can't deliver, makes them dance to death. So why was Mai so different from all the other victims? A chilling thought crossed his mind: maybe she was different because he cared for her and didn't want to see her die. He bit his lip and his eyes traveled to the door leading to Jeff's room. He'd never cared deeply for a person before. When had that changed? When had he started to actually _care_? A brisk knock brought him out of his thoughts, leaving his questions about Mai unanswered. Curious, he went to the door, wondering if Jeff had ordered some type of room service.

The knocking came again, followed by an announcement. "Mr. McLaughlin, police. Open up."

What? _What?_ He felt the blood drain from his face. Had that little bastard from the restaurant had actually called the police? Jeffrey hurried in, looking wary.

"Mr. McLaughlin," came the warning tone outside, "if you don't open the door, we'll be forced to break it down." The voice paused. "And the hotel will be billing _you_ before they kick you out, not the police department."

"Hold on, hold on!" he called back, approaching the door and opening it. "Officers," he greeted.

"Detectives," Genda corrected, showing his badge and stepping in to the suite. "Detective Genda, Detective Hirota," he said, motioning to the other detective who showed his badge silently. "We've had a few complaints about you."

"Me?" Samuel asked, pointing to himself and stepping back as they entered his rooms.

"You," Hirota confirmed, following Genda inside. He looked around and gave a low whistle. This room would cost him several paychecks. "Nice suite," he commented.

"Thanks," McLaughlin replied, shutting the door. "Please," he said, motioning the detectives to the table. "Can I offer you gentlemen anything?" he asked, going over to the mini fridge.

"No, thank you," Genda said, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

McLaughlin shrugged. "Suit yourselves." He took out a small bottle of scotch. "About this complaint?"

"MacAllister Gavin-san complained that you sexually harassed one of his customers outside his restaurant."

So the little bastard _had_ called the police. "Ridiculous," he said with an air of confidence.

"The pictures MacAllister-san took say differently," Genda said, easily shattering that confidence. He looked down at his nails disinterestedly and then looked up. "Hard to prove the pictures are lying, especially when his cell phone pictures have a time and date stamp," Genda said. He dug out a cigarette and held it up. "May I?"

Samuel felt ice skate down his back. Pictures? He'd taken pictures _and_ called the cops? How to fix this… he wasn't sure he could. Still… he had to do something. He raised his hands in supplication. "I admit to stealing a kiss," he told them, offering a sorrowful look. "She… I really couldn't help it. She's just adorable. I know it wasn't right and I offer my most sincere apologies. And no, I'd rather you didn't smoke in my rooms."

Genda looked put out, but stowed the cigarette for later.

"Perhaps I should go and apologize to her?"

"You could," Hirota said slowly. "That might help. But Mr. McLaughlin, Detective Genda and I would like to offer you a word of caution."

"Yes, of course, absolutely. I'll apologize and leave her alone." _She'll be dead soon, anyhow._

"That wasn't… well, that's part of it, yes, but we just wanted to remind you that you're not in America or at the Embassy. You have no immunity and no friends here. Be very careful of the lines you cross."

"The Embassy is the only place that can offer you protection," Genda continued, his tone bland. "And I don't know how willing they'd be if they learned of the charges, should Taniyama-san decide to press them. The closest Embassy building, just in case you need to know, is in Akasaka, Minato-ku. It's not far from here or the harbor. The real question is, can you beat us there?"

"Gentlemen!" Jeffrey spoke sharply. "Mr. McLaughlin apologized most profusely. He will also apologize to the young lady. There is no need to threaten him."

"We're only warning, not threatening."

"Say it as you will," Samuel said. "I will make amends and leave her alone. Good day, gentlemen. Jeffrey, please show them out."

Once they left, Jeffrey turned to his boss, blue eyes blazing with fury. "Shit, fuck!" Turning to the couch, he kicked it viciously. "This is bad, Sam. Real bad!"

"You think I don't _know_ that?"

Jeff went on as if he hadn't heard him. "Detectives! They sent detectives, not officers!"

"Calm down. Calm down and stop kicking the couch. It didn't do anything to you. Can we level a counter complaint?"

Jeff shrugged. "I don't know. I've never actually been to Japan. You can try. It might not do any good, especially if Ms. Taniyama presses charges against you." Jeff shook his head. "I have the address of where she works and the phone number, but when I called, the recorded message said that they were currently on a case and to leave a detailed message."

"Don't bother. I need to get to the museum," he said, shrugging on a black blazer. "We need to get her on American soil, Jeff."

"Yeah? How?"

"She's dying because of Annabelle. We can at least make her more comfortable. Her _boyfriend_ will have to understand that."

Jeff shook his head. If what he'd found about the company was any sort of true, then it definitely wouldn't work. "I don't think that'll work. I really don't. In fact, I'm nearly one hundred percent positive that it won't."

"Try anyways," Samuel commanded, walking out the door. He paused. "On second thought, call their office again and leave a message. Tell them you'd like to set up an appointment. Just because they're out on business doesn't mean that they don't check their calls. Put in a request for an appointment."

"Okay and what reason do I give them?" Jeff wondered.

"Ask if they can they exorcize the shoes. We know what the shoes are doing, can they help us get rid of Annabelle."

The secretary heaved a sigh. "It's as good as anything. I'll try."

Outside, Genda took the cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, drawing in a lungful of smoke. He smiled— cold and predatory. "That was fun."

Hirota's grin mimicked Genda's. "It was. Well we've done our duty. Let's call Shibuya-san and let him know that McLaughlin and his secretary will be visiting soon."

…

Back at the base, Naru gathered everyone for an update.

"Lin," Naru called.

"There's been no activity—none at all," the sorcerer reported.

"Unsurprising. Chamberlin-san, will you tell us your findings?"

Lee gawked at him. "Me?"

"You found it. You present it."

Lee shook off his surprise. _You're back at the station,_ he told himself, _presenting to your team. Think of it that way. _"I began to look into suspicious car deaths earlier this morning. But that's too broad of a subject so I narrowed it down according to area and ages. We're not interested in any cases where the victims are older than thirty-five because Satsuki isn't older than thirty-five. Forty matches were further narrowed down, because at least ninety percent of the accidents were attended to by officers that knew jackshit about cars—further examination of their reports yielded that the cars in question crashed due to basic maintenance that their owners neglected. So keep in mind kids, if the light for oil or antifreeze comes on, don't ignore it," Lee said, breaking his concise style to impart that warning.

"Chamberlin-san," Naru began, not missing Lin's quiet snort of laughter.

"What? Basic words of advice. Moving on. We're interested in the five deaths _are_ suspicious—the deaths in car accidents that are not maintenance-related. Those are the accidents that no one could make sense of because the cars just stopped working without rhyme or reason." Lee fell silent. "What I find suspicious is that even though Satsuki knew it was dangerous, she still went to work, with a bunch of strangers in her house and knowing that a creature was after her blood. And likely, she took a car."

"Lin, go call Atsuka-san and tell her not to get into a car under any circumstances." The Chinese man left the room. Naru turned to Yasuhara. "I have the names of the victims from the accidents that Chamberlin-san found. Find out what you can about them—including their families. The answer is going to lie within the families, so let's find it."

"Yes, sir." Taking the list, he went over to one of the computers.

"Atsuka-san, where are you?" Lin asked, not pleased with the sounds he was hearing from her cell phone. He sincerely hoped she wasn't in a car.

"It's early, but we're on our way back to the house. The work we had to do couldn't be done at home. Why?"

"How are you getting here?"

"Car, of course! How else are we supposed to get back?"

Lin buried his face in one hand. "Public transportation works for other people, Atsuka-san. Park your car and take a bus."

"What? Why? We're fine. We're almost back and we're nowhere near a bus stop, so we can't just park and take a bus. Like I said, we're just fine."

_Not for long_, he thought. "Atsuka-san, remember what you told me: you first encountered the creature driving your car. New information has told us that it attacks people _in their cars._ Seeing it at your home and apartment was simply a scare tactic. You need to pull over and get out. Now!"

"You're being paranoid. We're fine," Jiro told him.

He had to get through to one of them, at least. Why, oh why, was she stupid enough to go _out_ with guests? "Atsuka-san—!"

"The hell?" Jiro asked. "Get out of the fucking roadway, lady!"

A grim feeling bubbled up from Lin's gut. Unbeknownst to him, Satsuki had the same feeling. She turned from looking outside and peered out her windshield, inexplicably afraid. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Standing in the middle of the strangely deserted road was that thing, its hideous mouth stretched into an amused leer.

_Bail!_ she thought, releasing her seatbelt and his. They had to get out. "Out!" she cried, popping the locks and reaching for the door handle.

The locks went down before either could tug the doors open and the seatbelts snapped back into place, tightening painfully over the two. Satsuki pushed the button on the door frantically. When the car didn't respond to her actions, she tried to pull it up manually. It stayed stubbornly locked as the car flew out of control. Giving up on the locks, she fought with the seatbelt as Jiro fought with the wheel, but at the grim look in his eyes, she knew he was fighting a losing battle. The last thing she heard was laughter as the car careened out of control.

Lin slammed down the phone and sprinted back to the base room. "Mai! Naru! Come now!"

Dread pooled in Mai's stomach as she automatically followed Lin out to the van. She didn't need to be told that Atsuka and Umemiya had been attacked. They hopped into the van and started to pull away when Ayako leaped in, first-aid kit in tow.

"What are you doing, Matsuzaki-san?"

"Drive!" she snapped at Lin. "I'll start first-aid when we get there! Go!"

Lin sped off, wondering why he hadn't been more forceful or insistent. There had to have been a way to get through to her. Now, he wasn't sure she was alive. He watched Naru search out her cell's GPS location.

"Head north east for five miles, and then east," Naru told him.

Lin did a sharp u-turn and headed north east, continuing to berate himself until he felt Mai's hand touch his arm.

"Enough," she said quietly for his ears only. "Your face looks like thunder. There was nothing you could have done, she's the one who decided to be stupid and leave the house knowing that she was being stalked and the situation had escalated. Don't give her any of your guilt or sympathy."

He reached his free hand up and covered hers briefly. "Where to?" he asked Naru.

He squinted at the GPS tracker on his phone. "Turn left at the next street and they should be five or six miles up."

He turned left almost on two wheels and onto a strangely deserted road. Of course, he thought, gunning the engine. The van shot forward, covering the distance in a matter of minutes. They pulled up to the wreckage and climbed out of the van. The car in question lay topside down. Through the window, Lin cold see Atsuka and Umemiya unconscious and still strapped in. A small fire burned where the muffler was and a small line of gas was creeping steadily and unerringly towards it. Under normal circumstances he'd call it hopeless—Atsuka-san and Umemiya-san were going to die. Lin shared a quick look with Mai and Naru before nodding. Whispering a charm on the van, he looked at Ayako.

"Stay here," he commanded. "And if you haven't—"

"Yeah, I know," she interrupted. "Go and save those idiots so I can give them a piece of my mind." She grabbed Naru's cell phone and called for an ambulance.

The other three approached the wreckage. Mai took a deep breath to ground herself before taking the mirror in one hand and Naru's hand in the other.

"Gene," she whispered. He appeared in the mirror and reached out to her palm. It was always a shock to have the psychokinetic energy slide into her, but she sucked in a fortifying breath and passed it to Naru. The energy continued to pass back and forth and build using her as a buffer.

"Enough," Naru said after a few seconds. He focused on the car and willed it to rise and move, to slow down the inexorable track of gas as it headed to the fire. It lifted sluggishly and he moved it five feet away and held it suspended in the air.

"Go!" he ordered Lin, his face already beginning to show the strain. Chiaki would have made this a hell of a lot easier, he thought.

Another car pulled up and he ignored it. A figure shot out and suddenly, the pressure of holding the crashed vehicle eased as Chiaki approached. Her face was bone white and angry, but resolute; her eyes blazed silver and Naru knew that when this was done, they would have their first fight. Takigawa and Lee approached the upside down vehicle to assist. With a grim look on his face, Lee shattered the window with a crowbar and attacked the crumpled door, trying to wrestle it off the hinges. It took precious time and twice more Mai had to pass energy to Naru. Finally Lin, Takigawa, and Lee succeeded in getting the doors off and gently jimmied the two unconscious passengers out and away; Matsuzaki-san began what first-aid she could with the limited kit. Sweaty, grimy and exhausted, they turned back to the trio and gave them the all clear and moved away. They set the car down. Atsuka-san's vehicle exploded. The sound was deafening and his ears were still ringing by the time the fire truck, ambulances, and a car carrying Hirota and Genda arrived.

The firefighters were busy containing the blaze and the paramedics were busy with Atsuka and Umemiya. Genda took a look at the wreckage and marks upon the road. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long pull as he surveyed the scene.

"That car is at least five feet from where it should be," he commented, blowing out smoke.

Hirota waved it away in disgust, before peering at the group as more paramedics swarmed around them. He watched Mai stagger away and begin to cough and retch. Matsuzaki followed, waving away the paramedics. He realized he hadn't responded to Genda. Looking at the scene he had to agree.

"Yep," he answered, snatching the cigarette and stomping it out.

"Wha—hey!"

"You shouldn't be smoking near a crime scene, anyhow."

Genda sighed. "Bastard." He scrubbed his hands over his face, belatedly realizing that he'd forgotten to shave again. "How do we explain this?"

Hirota looked at Lee, Naru, Lin, and Takigawa. "Four strong men moved it and got the victims out. Hopefully, it doesn't come to Squad Zero."

Genda looked over at the SPR group. "Could have happened that way. So why do those kids look like they did all the work?"

Hirota spared them a glance. He had to agree: they did look peaked, but he said, "Do they?"

"Shit. Okay, I get it. Four strong men. But how did they do it, unofficially speaking?"

"Unofficially? Taniyama-san was a buffer between Shibuya-san and his dead twin. I've seen her do that back when I was at the Agawa house. They built up enough PK energy to move the car. Kasai-san also has PK, so she probably helped. Lin-san, Takigawa-san, and Chamberlin-san got Atsuka-san and Umemiya-san out." He shrugged. "After that, might as well let nature take its course. Matsuzaki-san started to administer first-aid until the paramedics arrived."

Genda shook his head. "Crazy. This entire thing is crazy. Talented group, though."

"They are. They're talented _kids_, Genda-san, not monsters."

"I know. It's just hard to process. I'll see if Atsuka or Umemiya are awake." He made his way over to the ambulances, but stopped before he got there. He felt eyes on the back of his neck and knew that Hirota's hope went down the drain. Whirling, he saw the creature staring at the live victims angrily, its eyes glowing an eerie red. Lin, grimy and sweaty, rose to his feet, waving off the medic who'd just put a blood pressure cuff on his arm. Exhaustion showed in his eyes but the atmosphere abruptly changed, turning turbulent, heavy.

_So if these kids do P.K., what does __**he**__ do?_ Something told Genda he didn't want to know. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Naru grip Kasai-san's hand and glare at the specter. It connected eyes with Lin, Naru, Chiaki, Mai, and Ayako until it got to Genda and Hirota. A tremor of fear slid down his spine at the look of utter… _enjoyment_ in the creature's eyes. The fact that Atsuka and Umemiya were alive meant that it wasn't done and there was no mistaking the fact that it would be back to finish the job. A bout of low, mad laughter followed the creature as it folded in upon itself and disappeared. He turned to Hirota. "So much for this _not_ going to Squad Zero."

"Stuff it," the other man muttered.

"It knows that it failed this time," Naru murmured. "Matsuzaki-san, do you have any charms that you can give to Atsuka-san and Umemiya-san?"

She took some out of her purse. "I'll go with them to the hospital."

Naru nodded and received a glare in return. With a sigh, the priestess decided it

wasn't worth it. Naru's lack of manners were legendary. Instead, she went over to the waiting ambulance and climbed in after the gurneys.

"Your blood pressure is a little high," the medic told Lin, removing the cuff and stowing the stethoscope around her neck.

He stood, rolling down his sleeve. "I'd imagine so. I just wrestled unconscious people out of a car before it exploded. Thank you, though." He turned to Mai and gave her a small smile. "Shall we return?"

She smiled back. "Yeah. We've done enough for today and I'm hungry."

"Matsuzaki-san, we'll see you back at the base," he called, wrapping an arm around Mai and walking back to the van.

…

Indeed it had failed, it thought, regrouping back at its mistress's home. It had failed miserably. And it was hungry, too. Its mistress was waiting for its return.

"I thought you said it would be done today," she said, glowering at him.

"I miscalculated. I wasn't counting on those ghost hunters showing up. Next time, I will not fail."

"See that you don't. I don't like failure. I'll dissolve our contract if you fail again."

With its eyes burning an eerie red, it bowed lavishly and said, "Yes, my lady."

She marched off to the kitchen and it watched her go, thinking of that stupid promise she'd given him. Dissolve their contract—what a joke. Contracts like theirs weren't dissolved or rescinded. As far as idle threats went, it was laughable. There was no dissolution. It just had to succeed and then that wonderful dark soul that was harboring in her body would be his. It licked its lips hungrily. It could all but taste the sweetness. Soon, soon. It would not miscalculate again.

…

Erin knocked on Charlie's door and entered his office. Charles Rosellini paused in his preparations to leave and frowned at her.

"Whatever it is, it can wait. I want to leave somewhat on time."

She gave him a look that told him that he might as well wish for the moon and stars. "It's past end of shift anyhow."

For a moment, Charlie missed being an hourly worker. "Somewhat, Reagan, somewhat."

"Fair enough. Sir, it's the museum cases."

He paused. "What about them? Closed, Reagan—stone cold. The collection's outside the country."

"But we just got new information."

Rosellini sighed and shut his briefcase. "Get your stuff," he ordered.

"Sir?"

"Don't make me repeat it, Reagan. If we're not going to stop working at a reasonable time, then I'm not continuing on an empty stomach."

Erin nodded. "I'll go get my stuff and meet you downstairs."

…

Erin sat back and took a sip from her scotch, waiting for Charlie to process what she'd learned from Danny. They were crammed into a small table in the back of a restaurant waiting for their meals.

"Hell of a thing," the man next to her said. "You know the Mayor's going to burn us for this right? I mean, he liked McLaughlin."

"And his donation to his re-election campaign. Eight kids, Charlie. McLaughlin profited from them. I wonder how the Mayor would feel if he knew those kids paid in blood for his donation."

"He'd lose the election." Erin could see the wheels turning in Charlie's head.

"All right. Make sure this organization the British Society of Psychic Research is legit. God, I feel weird saying it. If they are, then let's see if they've got clout to add. In the meantime, make this rock solid Reagan. We'll take it to a judge when you have." He tossed back the rest of his gin 'n' tonic and stared at her. "Let's burn this bastard."

A slow smile crossed Erin's face. "Happily. Charlie, you might want to contact the other District Attorneys and inform them of what we're doing."

"Good idea."

…

Yasuhara looked up from the computer at Shibuya-san and company as they trooped back in, without Matsuzaki-san. They were a mess, he noted. Lin, Takigawa, Naru, and Chamberlin were all covered in soot and grime. Shibuya-san in particular, looked like the asphalt had taken a shine to his skin. And Takigawa, Lin, and Chamberlin looked like they'd had a roll-around in oil and grease.

"Yasuhara-san, what have you found?" Naru asked, getting right down to business.

"Let me start by saying that Atsuka-san's real name was Asakawa. Asakawa Satoshi."

"Asakawa. That name sounds familiar," Takigawa commented.

"It should. Asakawa Keni'ichi-san is a well known land developer. In 2008 his daughter Asakawa Satoshi-san legally changed her name to Atsuka Satsuki-san. I phoned a friend who works in the local Ward Office in Tokyo. The reason for her claim was originally 'sins of the past.'"

"She kept the phonetic sounds of her name," Naru observed.

"Yes. She still keeps in contact with her father, too. It might be interesting to know that originally, a judge didn't approve of her explanation for a name change and refused to allow it, especially because there was no such precedent to support a reason like 'sins of the past.'" So she changed tactics and submitted a new reason: her career as a journalist had just begun to take off and she didn't want her coworkers thinking that her father's name and money had greased the wheels. The judge accepted her second reason and allowed for a formal name change."

"What did she mean by 'sins of the past?'" Lee asked. "I mean, if a person's going to name that as their reason for changing their name, there has to be something, even if it's not officially listed," he finished, popping some Tylenol and rubbing his tired, gritty eyes.

"There was quite a scandal in the Asakawa Family. One they paid good money to have suppressed. Of course, that didn't stop gossip reports. Asakawa Keni'ichi and four of his friends were driving home from a party drunk and stupid with it. They hit and killed a lady named Fujimura Akiko-san. The parents made them turn themselves in before they did any sort of suppression."

Takigawa spoke up. "Fujimura Akiko-san?"

"Yes. Why?"

He sat back and frowned. "I knew her. Her father's a monk—was a monk. Dead now, but I still know the family. Back when I was a kid at Koya-san, I visited her family shrine a lot. She was a shrine maiden until she got married and moved to the city." He shrugged. "Her husband was an office worker. They met when he visited the temple. I know they didn't have a lot of money, but I know that she was happy with him. I know that she had a daughter. Kid would be about eighteen, twenty by now." He stopped speaking and frowned, focusing on Naru. "You don't think that Akiko-san is the creature, do you?"

"It's a possibility."

"It can't be her! It can't! No, Naru, it can't. She had cookies ready for visitors! She was kind and gentle! She can't be the culprit, she can't!"

"Death can alter emotions," Lin said quietly. "You know this, Takigawa-san."

"It's a possibility," Naru repeated firmly. "We're going to keep our options open." At the stubborn look on the monk's face Naru sighed. "I don't actively think it's Fujimura Akiko-san."

"But—"

Naru cut him off with a quelling glance. "If you would think a little, you'd understand why it's highly unlikely to be Akiko-san. First of all, this creature is going after the _children_ of the people that originally killed Akiko-san. Why go after the children? It's of course possible that the original perpetrators could not be found or are dead, but some aren't. Why didn't the creature go after them first? Second and more importantly, if Akiko-san was so vengeful about her death, why did she wait twenty years to take revenge now? Now, if you're done interrupting, perhaps Yasuhara-san can finish with his findings?"

Osamu took that cue to continue with what he'd been able to unearth. "Fujimura-san's married name was Hideyoshi. Her husband, Hideyoshi Saitoh and daughter, Kaede got quite a settlement from all the families involved. But the biggest one came from the Asakawa Family. Five years ago, the daughter, Hideyoshi Kaede-san changed her name to her mother's maiden name. That's when the accidents started."

Naru nodded. "We need to pay her a visit. Is she close?"

"She lives seven miles from here—the next neighborhood over."

"What a coincidence," Naru commented.

The sorcerer held up the keys and stood. "Let's go."

"I'll go," Takigawa said, standing. "I have a connection that Kaede-san might be interested in."

Naru hesitated, but nodded. "Clean up first. You're both a mess."

Takigawa looked at himself, then Lin, Lee, and finally Naru. "Naru-bou… you're not looking so pretty yourself."

At the stifled giggles, Naru glared at the former monk, sending him high-tailing it to the bathroom.

…

"This is it," Lin said, nodding to the modest one-story house. The moment he stepped from the car, he felt his back stiffening. There was something at work; he could feel it. He repressed the feeling to call his Shiki and approached the door, ringing the bell. The door opened, a worn, but pretty face peering out. He felt his hackles rise. There was something totally off.

"Yes?"

The minute she spoke he had it and for the barest second, his lips compressed into a thin line. This did not go unnoticed by Takigawa.

"Fujimura-san, my name is Lin and I'm from Shibuya Psychic Research—"

"I'm not interested," she said, starting to shut the door.

"You look just like your mother," Takigawa stated, ignoring Lin for the time being.

She paused. "You knew my mother?"

"I did. Her family's temple wasn't far from my own family's shrine. May we come in?"

She hesitated, before opening the door wider. "I was about to make some tea."

They stepped inside. Takigawa looked at Lin questioningly, but Lin kept his face blank. "Please. I'll be right back."

"What's with you all of a sudden?" he asked when she disappeared into the kitchen.

"That isn't Akiko Kaede-san," Lin responded his voice low and harsh.

He looked confused. "Then who is it?"

"It's not who; it's what caused the feeling you had outside the house."

Takigawa scratched his cheek and shook his head. "I didn't feel anything. Nothing major, at any rate."

"Nothing major," Lin repeated. "It's an old creature, then. I'm betting the real Kaede-san made a deal with it. She spent twenty years growing up without a mother, being told that her mother was killed by some rich kids who had the money to buy their way out of punishment. And twenty years later the attacks begin. She made a deal."

Takigawa gaped at him.

"Focus on that aura and tell me I'm wrong," he said quickly when he saw Kaede-san coming back.

The monk focused on their host as she carried a tray loaded with tea things. An intense wave of cold struck him and he started to shiver. Lin was right: that wasn't Kaede. He squinted, looking for her aura and was rewarded with pitch black, the darkest night without a moon, an island with a crumbling building, and under a moonless sky, a deal for vengeance. He pulled back sharply when he felt Lin nudge him not so subtly in the ribs.

"Here we are," Kaede said, setting the tray down; if she'd noticed Lin's prod, she pretended otherwise. She poured the tea and handed out the cups, taking the last one. She sat back and stared into the tea. "You told me that I look like my mother." She smiled sadly. "I don't remember her very well. She died when I was young."

Lin had had enough of smoke and mirrors. "Kaede-san's mother died when she was young, yes."

Takigawa intervened before Lin could comment further. "Akiko-san was a gentle person. I have no doubts that she would be very disappointed with the path her daughter decided to take. Won't you let her out of the contract you two made?"

The room grew still. A low laugh made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. "Very good, Takigawa-san. Very good indeed. No can do, however. She and I have a binding contract."

"Tell us about it. How did this come about?"

The demon titled its head to the side. It was disconcerting to see it wearing Kaede's face.

"And please don't use _that_ face."

"Very well." Kaede's face melted, shifted, and morphed. The face that shaped was resplendent, poignantly beautiful, and evil—too much to be completely described by human words. From the look on Lin's face, Takigawa gathered that he'd seen this particular demon before. And the demon looked amused at seeing Lin.

"You seem unsurprised, sorcerer."

"Should I be?" Lin returned.

"Well that depends on you." It cocked its head to the side, staring past Lin's shoulder. "Your Shikigami are quite impressive. You got them from your grandfather who got them from his grandfather, yes?"

"No," Lin said vehemently. He forced a smile. "I didn't need to. I'm powerful enough to have corralled them without having them passed down."

"Your great-great grandfather tried to bind me, once," the creature said musingly.

"Nice to know."

"Who is that?" Takigawa asked Lin.

"A rather infamous crow demon. Even I don't know its real name."

It laughed. "As it should be. I'll tell you my name if you care to make a deal. I'm available once I've taken Kaede-sama's soul."

"At what price, though? There's nothing dire enough that I need to contract with you."

"Suit yourself."

Lin turned to Takigawa. "It went by the name Sebastian Michaelis back in the 1880's. A rather famous nobleman contracted with him and gave it that name."

It studied its nails disinterestedly. "I'm whatever or whomever my contractor needs me to be."

"Then, may we call you Sebastian?" Lin asked.

An odd look passed over the demon's face. Remorse, affection, and… fondness. 'Sebastian' inclined his head. "You may."

"How did this deal come about?"

"Kaede-san's father was bitter about what happened to his wife. I suspect you already know the rest."

"Tell us anyways."

"Humans," Sebastian said, shaking his head wonderingly. "Very well. Hideyoshi-sama passed on the bitterness to his daughter. A good portion of the settlement that they'd received went to fund the drinking habit he'd developed after his wife died. The Asakawa family however, in lieu of being able to adopt Kaede-sama, set up the money in a trust fund that Kaede-sama and only Kaede-sama could access when she turned twenty."

Takigawa shared another look with Lin. That was a new development. The shounen had missed that. "The Asakawa's wanted to adopt Kaede?"

"Her father refused."

"What about Asakawa Keni'ichi-san?"

"He was allowed to keep the name, but was disowned by his family. They weren't about to forgive their son for taking another life because he knew better than to drive drunk. Still, Kaede-sama was also bitter about the mother she never knew." He smiled now and it chilled Takigawa to his soul. "Bitter and angry enough that she was able to call _me_. She asked me to give her vengeance, I accepted." Sebastian nodded to the tea. "It's quite safe. Do drink it."

Lin picked up the cup, ignoring Takigawa's amazed look. He took a sip and found that the demon was right: it was safe and very good. Still, he preferred Mai's tea. "We have a problem," he told Sebastian.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Atsuka-san hired our company to figure out what's stalking her and stop it."

Sebastian's eyes lit up. "Such a conundrum! Kaede-sama holds my contract and bears my mark; I have told her I will give her vengeance and I shall. As you know, I do not lie to my contractors, that is a demon's aesthetics; you can't countermand or counter-offer. On the other hand, you are contracted to prevent me from harming _your_ charge. What will you do Lin Koujo-san?" Lin was easily able to hear what the demon didn't say: there were two options, either the contract was completed; or Kaede-san was killed, robbing Sebastian of her soul and setting the demon free. The crow demon was right, it was a conundrum.

"I don't know, quite honestly. You needn't look so amused. But we need to work this out. So perhaps you'll meet us here," he said, sliding a card towards Sebastian. "And we'll try."

The demon accepted the card gracefully and nodded. "I will call you if she'll come."

There seemed to be nothing more to do. The ball was in the other court and there was no need for them to stay. Giving the creature a short bow and thanking it for the tea, Lin and Takigawa took their leave. Lin's mouth was set into a grim line as he drove away.

Once they were a safe enough distance, Takigawa spoke, "Can we trick them?"

"What do you mean?"

The monk took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "Is it possible to trick that demon? We can't allow it to kill Atsuka-san; she had nothing to do with Akiko-san's death."

Lin bit his lip. A creature that old wasn't tricked easily. Still, they had to try something. If they couldn't save Fujimura-san, then there might still be a way to save Atsuka-san. "Let me think and discuss options with Naru. This won't be easy, Takigawa-san. That demon is older than all of us put together and then some. It won't be easy to trick it."

"Can't you just make him one of your Shikigami?"

Lin frowned. "No," he said, his tone absolute.

That ended that.

…

Back at the base room, Takigawa reported what they'd learned. It was scary that Naru looked as grim as Lin did.

"Is there a way to trick the demon?" Naru asked, mimicking Takigawa.

"I don't know," Lin said quietly, as the shoji screen opened revealing Matsuzaki-san. "There's a vague possibility."

"Possibility for what?" she demanded.

He raised a brow at her tone. She sounded…harried, annoyed. "Fujimura Akiko-shi was the original victim. Her daughter, Fujimura Kaede-shi has entered into a contract with a demon that promised her vengeance," he said, telling her the nutshell version of it.

Ayako's eyes went wide as his words sank in. "Contract… you're kidding."

"I wish we were," Takigawa said, approaching Ayako and sliding his arms around her.

"If she made a deal, can she alter the conditions?"

"I don't think there's a way. With five victims down and one more to go, the prospect of changing the terms are unlikely."

"Then what are our options?" Naru asked.

Silence answered. Finally, Lin spoke. "It's going to depend on the terms of the contract," he said quietly. "If, _if_ she only asked for vengeance, there may be a way. If she asked for revenge in the form of asking for them to die, then there's nothing we can do.

The frowns and silence answered the young man. Finally, Takigawa spoke. "What about a _hitogata_? Would it fool the demon?"

"Possibly," Lin said slowly. An addendum to the plan of the hitogata was forming in his mind. "A _hitogata_ itself probably won't fool this demon. It's an old creature, how old even I don't know. But if we make the hitogata a little bit more believable, it could work." He looked down at the ground and frowned. "If this works, then Kaede-san is going to die."

Naru frowned at him. "She's going to die anyways. We can't save her. She made a Faustian deal and nothing can change that. Our responsibility now is to save Atsuka-san."

Lin let out a long breath and focused on his charge. "Come talk with me for a moment," he said, taking the younger man's arm and leading him aside.

"What?"

The sorcerer held up a clumsily made bracelet of embroidery floss and string. It looked old, battered. He offered it to Naru. "Tell me about the contract she made."

Naru sucked in a harsh breath. "Where did you get that?"

"Sebastian-san was carrying it in his pocket. One of my Shiki borrowed it."

"Are you insane? What if he comes looking for it? What if it's part of the contract he holds?"

"He won't and it's not," Lin assured him. "Besides, we're not on his radar. Atsuka-san is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's wearing the sign of the contract he holds with her and so is she. It's as much for show as it is a constant reminder and a way to find her. This bracelet looks like it's seen its fair share of drama and tragedy." He held it out again. "I can't begin to plan anything, much less do anything until I know what I'm dealing with."

Naru compressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself, imagining the café downstairs, rain pelting the glass windows and inundating the street. Inside the café, it was nice and cozy and warm. Chiaki sat across from him, and tea stuff with little cakes sat between them as they carried on a quiet conversation. Holding that scene in his peripheral thoughts, he reached out blindly for the bracelet. Lin put it in his hand and Naru sunk his awareness into it. Lin had been absolutely correct when he surmised that the jewelry had seen its fair share. It had seen the bitter hatred that had festered and grown within both Kaede and her father. It had seen the loneliness of a girl growing up with a father who was a drunkard, who could not hold onto a job, who had done odd jobs just to make money for booze when the settlement money he'd received had run out. It had seen the abject hatred for the rich and privileged children who'd bought justice and didn't care about the woman they'd killed.

It had seen all these feelings that allowed for a summons. It had seen a boat ride on a moonless night to an island with a crumbling building and a deal struck between the crow and the human. Blocking the rest of the images, he focused on that rainy afternoon fantasy; Chiaki's quiet laughter and glowing eyes beckoned him back. Shuddering, he dropped the bracelet like he'd been bitten.

"All she asked for was terror. She didn't care how he did it or what he did, so long as they felt terror, the children and the parents." He looked up at Lin. "Killing them is an indulgence for him because of this. He's not human—he doesn't think that allowing them to live with the nightmares is punishment enough."

"I wonder about that. It's probably a bit more complicated but… that was good news. And now that I know, let's talk options. Let me outline what I was thinking. And pray that it works."

…

Sebastian put the last dish back in the cabinet. Having the sorcerer here had been entertaining, he decided. Something slid back into his pocket and he drew it out. . Ah, and he'd returned the bracelet, too. Kaede-sama had given it to him; her mother had made it for her when she'd been very, very young. It was a reminder, she told him. He needed no reminders. The only one he needed lay on his palm, while his lay on his shoulder.

If Sebastian read the situation correctly, they—the sorcerer and his motley crew—were going to try and prevent him from killing Atsuka… no, Asakawa Satoshi-san. Then again, all Kaede-sama wanted was for them to know terror. If they were going to such lengths to protect the last victim, he could terrorize whatever the sorcerer cooked up, because Asakawa Satoshi-san would have nightmares for the rest of her life, and her father would know that he was the root cause of all of this. It fulfilled the rest of the contract nicely.

"Soon, Kaede-sama. Very soon. Tonight, I think, depending on the sorcerer."

…

Satsuki woke up to the steady beeping of machines. She looked around, disoriented. She was… in a hospital? Yes, this was a hospital. What had happened? It came in flashes. Lin-san calling her and telling her to pull over, the creature attacks _in_ cars. The thing in the middle of the road, the locks that went down and stayed that way, the seatbelts that snapped back into place, and the car swerving out of control, the fateful crash… they'd crashed into… into… the creature. They'd crashed into that creature! But… but… it hadn't been hurt! It… had smirked at them—and then lifted the car, throwing it and its two occupants with one hand. A small sob choked out of her. Jiro. Where was he? The beepings became as agitated as she was.

"That's enough, Atsuka-san. It's not worth torturing yourself."

Lin-san! Her eyes flew open. He was there, sitting in a chair by the bed. Her heart started to pound softly and a small smile graced her features. All too soon the smile faded—it hurt to smile. She licked dry, chapped lips. "Jiro," she croaked. "Where's Jiro?"

Frowning, Lin handed her a cup of water. "I believe he's two doors down. He's fine, aside from a few broken ribs and a broken arm."

"Oh. How long have you been here?" '_Hours_,' she wanted to hear him say in a passionate, angst-ridden voice. '_I just __**had**__ to make certain you were all right.'_

'_What about Mai-chan?'_ she'd say.

'_Forget about her. You're my concern.'_

"About ten minutes," he said, abruptly shattering her fantasy. "I came by to give you an update and to inform you of how Umemiya-san is."

"Oh," she said crestfallen. She licked her lips again. "It's my fault, isn't it?"

"Certainly it was unwise to go travelling when you knew you were a target. You were both very lucky. You should know that the ghost haunting you is actually a demon."

She stared at him in shock, telling Lin that she hadn't known _that_. "A demon? Why…?"

"Your father. Twenty years ago, your father, Asakawa Keni'ichi –san and four of his friends killed a lady when they left a party, drunk as skunks. They hit a woman by name of Hideyoshi Akiko-shi. She was survived by her husband Hideyoshi Saitoh-san and infant daughter, Hideyoshi Kaede-san. Kaede-san made a deal with the demon that's masquerading as her mother, in exchange for her soul, it will kill the children of the men that killed her mother."

"And I'm the last," she finished. "Why save me for last?"

"It hasn't been verified, but it's possible that your father was driving the car that killed Akiko-shi. But I suspect you already know part of it—that's the real reason you changed your name, isn't it?"

"Yes." She bit her lip pensively. "Why kill the others?"

"I suspect it was a two-for-one mentality. Killing the kids would also make the parents feel terror and grief, among other things. Two birds with one stone."

"Am I going to die, Lin-san?"

"Not if we can help it."

"But… you said it's a demon. Can it be exorcised?"

"Doubtful. This is an old demon."

"Then…?"

"We're going to try and trick it. But in order to do this, I'll need some of your blood, first of all."

"Umm…?"

Somberly, he held up a ritual knife. "The palm. It will hurt, but I need to saturate this," he told her, holding up a white square of muslin.

"Okay… do what you have to do." Resolutely, she looked away.

Nodding, Lin pulled on a pair of latex gloves and stood, pulling the wickedly sharp blade free. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"Then let's get started."

Holding the knife point down, he cast a circle, using the blade to direct the energy into a protective barrier that would protect against anything nasty. To his sight, black, purple, and white tendrils flowed out and around them, black taking outer residence, purple ringing it, and white bringing it full circle. The strands folded themselves into a braid and settled. Circle in place, he curled her palm into a cupped position and dragged the tip and side through the soft flesh, watching dark red blood well up. She gasped at the sting but otherwise stayed silent. Setting the knife aside, he balled up the muslin and pressed it to the cut, soaking it in a matter of moments. Making absolutely certain, he balled her fist around the fabric and waited a bit longer before uncurling her fist and removing the fabric. Smoothing it out, he looked at it with a critical eye. It was completely drenched with her blood. That was plenty. Carefully, he placed into a small, plastic bag and sealed it. It was preserved as best as he could and it should hold until he got back to her house. Next, he pressed a new piece of gauze to the cut and instructed one of his Shiki to let Matsuzaki-san know he was done. Cleaning the blade off with an alcohol pad and replacing it in its sheath, he dismissed the circle.

"Why couldn't you have used a topical or local anesthetic?" she groused.

"Because it would taint your blood and I wouldn't be able to use it."

"What? I don't understand that at all!" she complained. "And what was that thing you did earlier?"

He stared at her, trying to decide if she was truly confused or just trying to stall him. "That was a circle. And any type of anesthetic would get into your blood stream," he said with patience.

"So?"

"So if that happens, I have to wait for your liver to clean your blood of the anesthetic and by the time all is said and done, it's a pointless gesture that's wasted time."

He had a point, she realized. The door opened, admitting a doctor she'd never seen before, but looked familiar. Then she recognized her. "Hey! Aren't you that priestess?" she asked.

"Yep. But right now, I'm the doctor. I'm going to stitch up your hand." She pulled on a pair of gloves and pulled out a syringe that she filled with Novocain. It was slow going until Satsuki's palm was numb, but once it was, Satsuki felt no pain and Ayako started to stitch up the knife wound.

"What's the second thing you need?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the feel of thread pulling her flesh together.

"An article of clothing—preferably something that was worn recently."

"Well… you still have the key to my house." Her lips curved into a smile. "You can go through my underwear drawer, if you'd like."

Lin sighed at the blatant invitation. It was time to dispel any illusions. "Atsuka-san, the only woman whose underwear drawer I would consider going through would be one Taniyama Mai. I apologize if I gave you the impression otherwise. I'll leave you in Matsuzaki-sensei's capable hands."

"Wait!" she called.

Lin turned back. "Yes?" he asked, with an edge of impatience.

"What do you mean by a circle?"

"Atsuka-san, either you were lying to me about being a reporter and forged the reports about you, or you're trying to stall me. Matsuzaki-sensei can tell you if you truly desire to know."

She hesitated. "I…want to know… we saw that _thing_ you sent on the tape. It was a big, green arm. What was that? How did you do it?"

Lin considered her for a moment then shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Matsuzaki-san, we'll meet you at the office when you're done. We're going to finish this tonight."

"Okay," she said, not taking her eyes off of what she was doing.

Satsuki looked at the priestess who was stitching her hand with patient, unhurried sutures. "I don't really want to know," she said nastily. "I just wanted _him_ to tell me."

Ayako rolled her eyes. "Color me surprised."

…

Back at Satsuki's house, Lin drew a circle with chalk and once again directed his energies into it. This time, he used four colors, adding indigo to the mix. Taking the gauze packet out of his bag, he set it on the table he'd brought with him. Next came a wooden effigy and a fine-pointed chisel. Next was a shirt; he'd taken from her bathroom hamper. He set to work. Lighting one black candle and one white candle, he picked up the chisel and carved Atsuka Satsuki's name—her original birth name and birth date into the crude wooden doll, then he uncovered the muslin square. Taking a pair of scissors, he sheared off the sleeve and opened the seam, setting it inside a waiting tray. Using a pair of tweezers he'd found in her bathroom, he picked up the muslin, he placed it inside, set the _hitogata_ on top, and added Atsuka-san's car key, and wrapped the entire ensemble inside the sleeve.

Focusing, he took a breath, centered himself, and began to chant. This had to look exactly like her, he knew, recalling her features exactly and tracing them in his mind. What had she been wearing when she came to S.P.R.'s doors? A tunic with long sleeves, cool-colored, black leggings. Sensible pumps, the only thing reasonable about that outfit; dangle earrings, bangle bracelets, a fancy watch, makeup; hair styled in elaborate banana curls. Now… a flirty look on her face, her eyes trying to catch his with an offer, a promise. Power swirled out of him and to the package. The spell took hold, transforming the effigy into a _doppelg__ä__nger_ of Atsuka-san. He finished chanting and the mirror image took on a solid look anchored to the key it was holding. Luckily for them, Atsuka-san's car was still in her driveway. The vehicle that had been crashed was Umemiya-san's. By now, he was sure that Naru had contacted Kaede-san and informed her that Atsuka-san was just fine, although with a painful headache and a goose-egg bump on her skull. He invited her to come to the S.P.R. office; Atsuka-san would go home, change, and return.

He prayed that this worked. The real Atsuka-san had a ward he'd created that he hoped hid her from the demon's sight. His grandfather had come up with that sigil, so he was fairly confident. He focused on the clothing and made changes. After glancing in her closet, he knew she had an identical tunic in gold's and browns. He changed the colors and her makeup subtly to reflect the clothing change. After all, Atsuka-san would want to be dressed to the nines to impress Kaede-san into leaving her alone… and to cover any bruises and cuts on her face.

"Drive to Shibuya Psychic Research, located in Shibuya-ku, the Dozenga Ward," he ordered the doppelgänger.

With a vaguely vacant look in its eyes, the doppelgänger hurried out of the house and to the car, where it began to drive. Automatically, Lin pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched one number. When the recipient picked up, Lin said tersely, "It's on the way."

He was hoping beyond hope that this worked. And in a small corner of his heart, he had a feeling that tricking this demon was nigh unto impossible.

Sebastian was impressed. Not just a doll, but a double and it acted very real. Magic was apparently still potent in this technological age. He attacked gleefully, destroying the car and appearing for a final time in the real Atsuka's hospital room to leer and toss her the only thing that remained from the car: the steering wheel. The look of abject fear on her features was a potent drug for him. It was time now to collect on the contract.

He landed in front of Kaede and said, "It's done. The contract has been fulfilled. Now it's time for you to honor your end of the bargain."

Kaede nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. It was done. The children of the men that had killed her mother and caused her to grow up motherless were dead. It was well worth the price of her soul. She would never know that they weren't all dead. She hadn't ordered it and Sebastian wasn't about to remind her of that.

Sebastian nodded and reached out for her, gently scooping her up. "It's time."

"I'm ready."

Later, much later, the demon known as Sebastian went back to the crash site and looked around. He found what he was looking for in an instant. Clever, actually, he decided, picking up the _hitogata_. He stowed it in a pocket and decided to return it to the sorcerer, with his congratulations.

It was a small headline and article in the next day's paper that Fujimura Kaede-sama had disappeared mysteriously. Lin put the paper aside, mildly surprised that it had worked, after all. Perhaps Sebastian had just been too hungry to care. The case was over. After breakfast, he would go into the office and write up his report. But first… maybe a bit of sport if Mai was willing? His lips slid over the shell of her ear.

"Wake up," he whispered.

…

"This is becoming a habit," Naru remarked, when Mai and Lin walked in late.

Lin shrugged. "You knew I wouldn't be able to make it at my normal time."

Naru caught the double meaning: he'd needed to sleep off the effects—or work them off somehow. He looked at Mai speculatively. Looking back at the Chinese man, he heaved a sigh. Turning, he made his way to his office but paused.

"Mai, tea," he commanded.

"What?" she demanded. Next to her, Lin sniggered.

"Somethings never change. It's refreshing." He stooped and kissed her. "If you feel like making tea before you go to your classes, I'll take some, too."

"Sure, sure," she groused. "Ah, wait." She dug into her messenger bag and pulled out a thumb drive. "My report's on this," she said, handing it to him. "Would you read it and if there're no obvious mistakes, print it? I'm turning it in early."

"Well done," he murmured, grinning at her and disappearing into his own office. He booted his computer and pulled up the file the minute it was done. He looked it over—with no obvious mistakes that he could see, he printed the file out and stuck into a clear cover that would look better than stapling.

"Here," he said, giving her the thumb drive and report. "I'll see you later, all right?"

She smiled and handed him his tea. She sat the other cup on the coffee table in the common room.

"Later!" she called, walking out.

Lin eyed the unclaimed tea and shrugged, making his way back into his office. If Naru wanted his tea, he'd have to leave his office to get it. It was a good punishment. Sitting at his desk, he took a tentative sip and smiled. The demon was very good at tea-making. But nothing bested Mai. He took another sip and checked the messages on the machine. He frowned when McLaughlin's secretary asked for an appointment, claiming that they wanted the shoes exorcised.

"In a pig's eye," he muttered, leaving his office and going over to Naru's. He knocked on the door and poked his head in.

"About time!" came the petulant complaint.

"About time that McLaughlin contacted us about the shoes?" Lin asked, feigning ignorance.

He looked up at his assistant and frowned. "You're not Mai and you don't have my tea."

Lin rolled his eyes. "I'm not Mai, no. She had to go to class. Your tea's outside in the common room. Go get it yourself. In the meantime, McLaughlin's secretary contacted us while we were working Atsuka-san's case."

Naru's frown deepened. "Did he, now? And what does he want from us?"

"On behalf of his boss, he wants to know if we can get rid of Annabelle."

"McLaughlin's only had a decade or so to try and get rid of Annabelle. Why start now?" Naru shook his head. "They must think we're stupid."

"To say the least," Lin agreed.

Naru thought for a moment. "Call them back," he said suddenly. "Set up the appointment. I think it's time we take the offensive."

Lin's lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Understood."

…

"Are you sure this is it?" Samuel asked his secretary, staring at the bustling café.

"I'm sure. It's upstairs," Jeff said.

"Then… tally ho, I guess." With that, Samuel climbed the narrow stairwell and paused, waiting for Jeff to catch up. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, opening the door. A bell tinkled merrily and a masculine voice called them in.

"We'll be right with you. Take a seat on one of the couches."

Carefully, Samuel sat down, Jeff following suit. The door opened again—the bell didn't ring—and another man stepped inside. At least, Jeff _thought_ it was a man. But if it was a man, it brought an intense wave of cold with it and simply smirked at the two men sitting there.

"There's another couch," Jeff offered, pointing to it needlessly.

The smirk grew more defined. Why, his mouth resembled a beak, Jeff thought. "I'll stand."

The chills ran through him all over again. Something about that voice brought the tall, Chinese man hurrying out to the Common Room. He focused solely on the man and not to Jeff or Samuel. He looked wary, Jeff decided. His posture was rigid; it was like he knew that this stranger was potentially dangerous.

The man smiled genially and spoke first. "Lin-san, excellent. I was hoping to catch you when you were here."

"You managed, Sebastian-san. How can I help you?" Lin asked carefully.

Wordlessly, Sebastian held out a small, wooden effigy to Lin. To Samuel and Jeff, it looked like a crudely carved doll with odd shapes carved into it. From the look on Lin's face, they gathered that he wasn't happy to see it and even less happy to receive it. Nevertheless, he took it, glancing finally at the two men on the couch. He frowned at Samuel and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Jeffrey and Jeff wondered why. He turned back to Sebastian who watched with amusement.

"Why return this?" Lin asked. "It's over, isn't it? There was a small article in the paper about Kaede-shi."

'Shi,' Jeff thought, only understanding a few of the rapidly spoken words. Did tacking 'shi' on to a name indicate that they were dead? He couldn't really be sure.

"It's over," Sebastian agreed. "You're very clever and powerful to boot," he said, inclining his head to the sorcerer. "You should have been exhausted after that display."

"What of it?"

Sebastian's lips curled into a smile. "To be young, I suppose, seeing that you're frisky and bright-eyed afterwards. You know about the deal I had with Kaede-sama," he said, licking his lips delicately and smiling. Jeffrey and Sam shivered visibly wondering what the hell the man was talking about.

"I know. I know also that there was no way we could have saved her. As you sow, so shall you reap."

"Very good," he approved. "Yes, I promised her the vengeance she asked for. She asked me to make them feel terror; that was all she wanted. She never specifically _ordered_ me to kill them; she simply assumed that's what I would do."

"You were the effect, not the cause, yes? What a tidy little loophole," Lin said dryly.

"I happen to agree. So, well done to you once again. Are you sure you don't want to make a deal, sorcerer? I could protect that girl for you." His eyes traveled over to the two men on the couch and he smiled. "I could even get rid of that ghost. What's a ghost compared to me?"

Straight to the heart, Lin decided. And it was oh, so tempting. He smiled. It was a frightening smile, too calm, and too nice. "I protect Mai quite well on my own, Sebastian-san. Let me counter-offer. Would you consent to becoming one of my Shikigami?"

From the tightening of his jaw, Lin surmised that it wouldn't be a voluntary act. He'd have to fight tooth and nail for this demon's binds. And sure enough…

"Aren't you funny?" Sebastian asked, losing his grin. "I must decline, however. You're not clever enough to compel the likes of me."

"Oh, I don't know," Lin said thoughtfully. "You did tell me that you thought my Shikigami were impressive. You would add well to that group." He tossed the demons words back at him. "And you could protect Mai when I can't be with her."

Sebastian's eyes burned now with an unholy…something. Stiffly, the creature bowed. "Until next time, sorcerer."

"One question," Lin called.

Sebastian turned back, waiting.

"Was Asagawa Keni'ichi-san the one who drove the car that killed Hideyoshi Akiko-shi?"

"And what do you and your boss think?"

"We think that's why you saved Atsuka-san for last."

"If that's the case, then what's the question?" Sebastian asked, neither denying nor admitting anything. Looking askance at the two men on the couch, the demon tipped its head marginally and walked out the door.

"Huh. I thought he'd fade out." He looked at the _hitogata_ and frowned, stuffing it into his pocket and then he looked at the two men. "One moment, please," he said in English. "I'll get Mori-san and Shibuya-san."

Turning, he went to the records room where Madoka and Lee were working on something—a side project, he guessed. They'd been there all morning he wanted to claim, but they'd walked in after Mai left to catch the train, something about looking into something. He sincerely hoped they weren't making out. Then again, if they were, what business of it was his? He tapped on the door before opening it. Madoka put her finger to her lips in a universal gesture for silence and motioned to Lee, who was fast asleep against a bookshelf. She got up from the computer and walked over to him.

"I think he's being haunted," she whispered without preamble.

"By one of the victims of McLaughlin, right?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think so. One of the victims he mentioned, he knew personally. She was the goddaughter of one of his detectives."

Lin sighed. "Well, it'll have to wait, I think. And wake Chamberlin-san. McLaughlin and his secretary are here."

Madoka drew in a sharp breath—one that mimicked the one he'd drawn. "Here?" she snarled in her whisper. It was a terrifying thing to hear.

"Yes. And I know this'll be interesting. I'd bet good money that the secretary is Oliver's biological father."

"If he's not, it's one hell of a coincidence. Lin, was that a demon that came here?"

"The one known as Sebastian Michaelis."

"You meet such interesting people, well, creatures, in his case. Well, let's get this over with. I'm curious to know what McLaughlin wants."

Lin grimaced, thankful that Mai was at class, instead of at the office. Gods only knew what the man would try were she here. "I'll get Naru," he said heavily.

Turning, he walked the short length to Naru's office and knocked on the door. He didn't wait for an answer, he simply strode right in.

"What?" the ghost hunter asked, not looking up from what he was reading.

"McLaughlin and his secretary are here. I'm strongly urging you to prepare yourself for something very unpleasant."

Now Naru looked up, meeting Lin's eyes. It wasn't just McLaughlin being present. There was something else. "It's not that demon, is it?"

"No. It came and went, returning the hitogata to me."

"It's not going to go after Atsuka-san again, is it?"

"I shouldn't think so. He had a tidy loophole. Kaede-shi simply wanted vengeance. She never said he had to verify that the children were dead."

Saved by a loophole. What were the odds? Naru wondered. "Go," he said. "I'll be out momentarily."

"I'll wait."

Something in his assistant's tone told him that he didn't want to walk into the situation blind. Nodding, he put his bookmark in and placed the book on his desk. Standing, he joined his assistant and walked out into the common room. One glance told him why the sorcerer was insistent on staying with him. He felt like he'd been physically sucker-punched. His own face, but older, stared back at him. There was a little bit of gray in his blue-black hair and his eyes were grief-laden and shocked, but they were still identical to Naru's own. Behind him, he heard Chamberlin gasp. Madoka and Lee came into his field of vision. Madoka looked grim; Lee looked startled, as if he was wondering just how he'd missed the connection. The man rose to his feet and took two faltering steps, stopping only when Naru's eyes went flat and cold.

Jeffrey couldn't breathe. The air had been sucked dry out of the atmosphere and there wasn't anything left. Shock and surprise didn't _begin_ to cover what was currently swirling in his brain. Kazuko was dead. He hadn't kept up with his sons. He'd walked out on them nearly twenty years ago. Was he really seeing the young man that his son had become? For that matter, which son was he? Kazuko had given birth to twins.

"Which one are you?" Jeffrey stuttered.

Naru frowned at him. "I'm Oliver Davis—but I prefer to be known as Kazuya Shibuya," he said, deciding to be truthful. "I don't know why it matters to you—I don't know you."

"Liar," Jeffrey replied. "Any fool can see that I'm your father and that you're my son. I had two sons—twin boys. Which one are you?" he asked again.

"My name is Oliver Davis." His eyes took on a glacial look. "And allow me to correct you. You're _not_ my father. My father is Martin Davis, Professor of Law at Oxford Trinity. _You _simply provided the biological materials." With that, Naru dismissed Jeffrey and turned to McLaughlin. "What can we do for you, Mr. McLaughlin? And please, spare us the story of wanting to get rid of Annabelle. You've had more than a decade to look into exorcising her."

Jeffrey fell back to the couch with a thud, looking shell-shocked. Samuel smirked and rose to his feet. It was now or never, he decided.

"I have a proposal," he told them.

Naru's eyes narrowed. "Concerning…?" he prompted.

"Miss Taniyama."

Lin went rigid.

It was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. It was the feeling that told her that she shouldn't be leaving, even though she still had class. With each step that took her to the JR Yamanote line, the further the feeling intensified. Half way to the bus stop, she stopped, feeling that she couldn't take another step forward and if she tried… the consequences would be dire. She bit her lip. Something… was seriously wrong. A hiss sounded in her ear and a message rang, clear as bells, in her mind.

_'Go back!'_

She didn't even consider trying to go forward. If she missed class, too bad. She was needed back at the office—Koujo needed her, she could feel it in her very bones. Hitching her backpack higher, she turned, and ran back to the office, hoping that she was in time to help prevent whatever was looming.

…

"You're aware that she's possessed by Annabelle. What you probably don't know is that she doesn't have much longer to live, two weeks, maybe. Annabelle kills very quickly when people fail her and believe me, Miss Taniyama will undoubtedly fail. I propose to take her back with me to America. I can give her a comfortable enough life there and she'll be happy, until Annabelle finally kills her."

Take her back—take Mai… Lin snapped. Cabinets and drawers opened, sending tea, china and silverware flying into a chaotic dance. Before anyone could say anything in response, Lin let out a cry of rage, and slammed McLaughlin into the wall, lifting him with one hand, murder in his eyes. Dimly, he heard Naru tell him to let McLaughlin down and Madoka try to reason with him. Their words, however, were insensible and he didn't much care what they thought. He simply tightened his hold, feeling that McLaughlin was laboring to breathe in his choke-hold.

Good, he decided with a deep sense of satisfaction. He bared his teeth into an awful parody of a smile as McLaughlin struggled against his hold. Let the bastard die without breath, he decided, exerting a bit more pressure.

Jeffrey turned to Lee. "Do something!" he hissed.

Lee only shrugged. "I'm here as a tourist, Jeffrey. My badge and gun are back home. I'm afraid you're on your own," he told the man with relish. "You could call the police," he suggested helpfully, nodding to the phones on the desks in the common room. "I believe it's four-one-one here in Japan."

"You son-of-a-bitch—"

"Language," Lee reprimanded mildly. Then he sighed and began to make his way over to the enraged man, wishing fleetingly that Mai was here to help.

As if answering his call, the door opened and Mai flew in, disheveled and winded. She took one look at the scene in front of her and dropped everything, charging over to her boyfriend. She grabbed his arm and began speaking to him rapidly. At first, it looked like even she wasn't going to get through to him—in his rage, he'd shaken her hand off twice. She'd grabbed it again each time and continued her frantic talk, emphasizing a few words with shakes. From the look on McLaughlin's face, she wasn't getting through to him. But then, his arm went slack, dropping the man to the ground, where he landed in a tangled, rumpled, heap. Jeff scrambled over to his boss and assisted him away from the incensed man and to the couch. A tense few minutes passed before a reasonably calmed Lin turned to the duo. He wasn't completely composed, however. He was still breathing heavily and it looked like he was battling with himself to not pick up where he'd left off.

"Get out!" he commanded, his voice powerful and profound. "Get out of here! And keep away from my girlfriend for your remaining days here in Japan. If I so much as hear that you were within twenty-feet of her, I will kill you. I only need one sheet of paper to make it happen—go!"

Lee watched Madoka's and Mai's faces pale at that pronouncement. What that meant, he didn't know, but he was sure the man wasn't lying.

"Mr. McLaughlin, it would be best if you leave," Madoka echoed, as Mai escorted Lin into his office and shut the door. She sincerely hoped that Mai could calm him down completely.

"I agree," Naru said. "We'll solve Annabelle's mystery on our own. Have a nice day." He turned to Madoka, dismissing the two men. "One last dance?"

"One last dance," she affirmed.

His mouth compressed into a firm line. "Let's make certain that's all it is. Go get whatever you brought with you from America."

Madoka took a breath. "Give me half an hour."

~~Owari

**A/N:** Another chapter done. I'm estimating one or two more to go. Is it just a dance that Annabelle wants? Well, maybe. You'll have to wait and see in chapter nine!


	9. Roses From the Past, part one

Chapter nine: **Roses from the past**

"_Silver dishes for the memories_

_For the days gone by_

_Singing for the promises_

_Tomorrow may bring._

_I harbor all the old affection,_

_Roses are the past…_

Every Time You Kissed Me, Emily Bindiger.

A/N: I obviously don't own Ghost Hunt, Skip Beat! or Blue Bloods. For those of you asking, Sebastian should be making an appearence very soon! Thanks to Cold_Queen_5 for beta-reading this chapter!

_When she first entered the dream, Mai was sitting at her desk in class, waiting anxiously for something. Midterm… she wondered. It couldn't be. Her midterm was done; she'd passed with flying colors. Unable to understand what she was waiting for, she shrugged and rose, exiting the classroom only to find herself in a studio (she thought) of some sort. She looked around, perplexed. Where, exactly, was she? There were cameras everywhere, even attached to the ceiling, it looked like. The sheer number of them had her raising a brow. She asked herself again where exactly she was because it couldn't be anywhere near Shibuya Psychic Research. They didn't have that many cameras and they didn't need that many, either. Maybe what she was seeing was a case that they'd be working on soon. Like a kalidescope being turned, the scene shifted, blurred, then changed and she blinked, bemused. A door stood there, open and beckoning her inside. She turned back and saw a blank wall. All righty then. She moved forward into yet another classroom, stopped, and stared. _

_**Don't tell me this is yet another case!**_

_ Well, what else could it be? Some of the crew were there—her, Lin, Naru, and Ayako. Maybe the others hadn't arrived. Or maybe they couldn't be part of whatever this was. In the end, it didn't matter because it hadn't happened. But it would, she knew, watching the future through blurred vision. Then it disappeared, blitzing out like a bad cable connection. Now she was back in Annabelle's house with the shoes floating in front of her, menace pouring out of them. She narrowed her eyes at them. Oh, no; no, no. So not happening. She called to the creature residing in her charmed bracelet. The snake came at her summons, wrapping itself protectively around her body. It watched the shoes avidly, awaiting her command to attack. _

_ All she had to do was tell it to go, she knew. But she hesitated. This creature was protecting her; had been the moment that Koujo put that bracelet around her wrist. It hadn't taken Mai long to figure out what he'd given her: a baby shikigami. But like all children, it needed a name; it couldn't remain as an 'it' forever. For a creature that protected her, she could think only of one name: Mamoru—the word that meant protection. _

_ "I think we need a change in the status quo," she began conversationally. "Let's shake things up a bit. Why don't __**you**__ run, Annabelle-san, take your shoes with you. __**I**__ will sit and watch you flee. Mamoru, it's chow time!"_

_ A shiver of light coursed through the snake, transforming it into a baby dragon, the most magnificent of all serpents. It gave Mai a loving lick on her cheek—his thanks for his name—and turned back to the shoes, eyeing them greedily._

_ "You'd better be fast, Annabelle-san. If Mamoru catches you, curtains."_

_ The shoes took off; Mamoru followed in hot pursuit. Mai grinned and allowed the dream to fade into oblivion. _

….

She woke up and saw pre-dawn light slipping through the cracks in the blinds. Lifting her head, she looked at the clock. It was nearing six. They'd have to get up soon, anyhow. She turned and considered Koujo sound asleep on his back, his chest rising and falling with steady, even breaths. There was no reason they couldn't wake up just a bit early, right?

Smiling, she shimmied until she straddled him. Bending down, she brushed her lips against his and wiggled just a bit. "It's time to wake up, Koujo. Rise and shine."

His eyes snapped open.

...

_Three days later after being released from the hospital…_

Satsuki slid into the booth across from her father who smiled in welcome and continued to dictate orders to the other person on the phone. Morikawa-san, her father's long time secretary and right-hand lady, she knew.

"That's enough to start with, Morikawa-san. My daughter just arrived, which means my wife will be right along. Yes, I'll tell them. Goodbye."

"Tell her I said hello," Satsuki said.

"I will. Well, let's wait for your mother. She's already criminally late, so…" Her father trailed off, sharing a smile with his daughter. Her mother was a defense lawyer—one of the best in Honshu. She and her father always joked that her mother was on time for every trial, but couldn't actually make it on time to anything else; thus she was 'criminally late.' His smile faded as he took stock of his daughter's injuries.

She smiled faintly. "It's not as bad as it looks and if it makes you feel better, the doctor gave me a clean bill of health."

"I'm glad it's over," he said. "Most importantly, I'm glad _you're_ all right. Umemiya-san, too."

"I'll tell him you said so." She rubbed her hands together. "Shibuya Psychic Research is one paranormal research group that I can't debunk. They're the real deal."

"They can't all be fakes," Keni'ichi answered.

That was true. She looked at her father and decided to ask him a very painful question. "Father, were you the one who drove the car twenty years ago?"

Keni'ichi looked stricken. "So you found out about that, eh?" A painful grimace crossed his face. "Of course you did. Yes, I was the one who drove the car that horrible night. I'd just turned twenty; I was a full-fledged adult and stupid." He broke off as his wife barreled into the small restaurant and skidded to stop at their table. Composing herself, she smiled serenely at the others in the shop and took a seat next to her husband.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Criminally late," Satsuki and her father finished for her.

Asakawa Yuzu pouted and took the tea her husband nudged her way. "Well fine. Be that way," she moped. The act was ruined by the tiny smirk on her lips. She pursed her lips as she looked at her daughter's bandages. She took a slow sip of tea. "Care to enlighten us?" she finally asked.

"I think we should hear dad's side of the story, first," Satsuki responded, turning to her father.

Keni'ichi cringed a bit but smiled sadly. "I guess you do deserve to hear it. Seeing as you suffered as a result… and the other children that died."

"What's she talking about, Keni'ichi?" his wife asked her voice thick with suspicion.

"A horrible accident that happened twenty years ago. As I was saying before you arrived, I'd just turned twenty and I was stupid. My parents threw a big party celebrating my step into adulthood. I was legal now. I could do anything I wanted and I did just that. I got unrepentantly smashed—my parents weren't there to tell me I couldn't because they left the party half-way through and I was still sober. After the party wound down, we thought… my friends who'd stepped into adulthood with me—that we'd sobered up enough to drive home. It was very late by then and, well, to make a tragic story short, we were wrong. We weren't sober enough to drive. Not by a long shot. And a young mother paid for our stupidity. When my parents heard what had happened, they were extremely angry. They disowned me as punishment: I needed to make my way in the world with only the college money they'd left behind and the name of the family that I was no longer attached to. Meanwhile, they looked into adopting the daughter of our victim."

"Hold on… your parents lifted that banishment when Satoshi—no, sorry, sweetheart, Satsuki, was born," Yuzu commented. "I remember them welcoming you back. I thought it was odd then, but you wouldn't explain."

"There were some things I just couldn't tell you back then, my love," he told her, looking pained and sad and haunted. Satsuki was so familiar with that haunted look; she'd seen it on his face when he thought no one was looking her whole life. "Twenty years have passed." It didn't escape her that the haunted look still remained. "Where was I…? Oh. My parents tried to adopt Hideyoshi Kaede-san, but her father refused to allow it. So I told them to give her the college money they'd saved up for me."

Satsuki stared at her father with new-found respect. "What did Grandma and Grandpa say to that?"

Keni'ichi smiled, a sad twist upon his lips that made it more of a grimace than anything. "I do believe they were proud of me; that likely accounted for why they lifted their banishment of me when you were born. The others just had their parents write a check or give cash. I told my parents to give my college fund to that young girl and turn it into a trust fund. I did as they said: I made my own way in the world. "

"But… how did you get through college?"

"I worked," he told her, as if it were obvious. Retrospectively, it should have been. Her father had always been a hard worker. She'd heard more than once that he'd worked his way through college and had always thought that it was odd because his parents had been more than wealthy enough to put him through college. "College, unlike some of the high schools, allows for work and classes. So that's what I did. I paid my own way through college—starved sometimes because paying my bills was more important than eating, but I did it."

"So what now?" Satsuki asked. "Hideyoshi, no, Fujimura Kaede is dead."

Keni'ichi stared at his daughter as if he was certain he'd misheard. His throat worked a few times before he swallowed forcibly and said, "Dead?"

"Dead," she affirmed. "There was an article in the paper about it. What happens to the trust money?"

He looked over at his wife. "Yuzu? I know it's not your specialty, but... "

Yuzu thought for a moment. "Your parents are dead, Keni'ichi. The money should return to you."

"I see." He looked at his daughter. "I don't need the money."

"Neither do I."

"Why don't you give it to Shibuya Psychic Research?" he asked. "Or a portion of it and invest the rest?"

She shuddered. "I don't want any of it. If I take any of it, I'll never be able to remember with ease." That was a fine joke, however, because she knew that no matter what, she'd never remember the events with anything other than spine-tingling horror. She said, "I think that Shibuya Psychic Research has earned it. I don't know what Lin-san did, but it couldn't have been a cakewalk."

"Speaking of Shibuya Psychic Research… I think I'd like to hear _your_ story, Satsuki."

"Mom, it's okay. I'm actually going to change my name back to Asakawa Satoshi… if that's all right with you two."

"Of course it is!" her mother cried. "Why, a celebration, then! Keni'ichi, we have our daughter back!"

"It's not like you guys lost me," she muttered, vaguely embarrassed by her mother's reaction. To be fair, they'd taken her name change with remarkable aplomb. She smiled at the orders that her mother was snapping out for food. There was a lot to celebrate, wasn't there?

…

The atmosphere in the office was unbearable. It was an odd silence because it wasn't an act Naru had demanded—Chiaki was purposely ignoring him. Naru's prediction was coming true. Their first fight was going to happen. He recalled a conversation he'd had with Lin the other night.

_"Have you and Mai ever fought?"_

_ "What an odd question."_

_ "And it'd be good if you'd answer it, instead of idle comments!" Naru snapped._

_ Lin raised a brow at him. His charge looked agitated, edgy. Trouble in paradise, he assumed. He knew that feeling. "Of course we've fought. All couples do."_

_ "What do you do when you and Mai fight?"_

_ Lin considered. "The first question is what caused unrest. Don't glare at me. Remember what I told you? Communication is the key to everything. You can't repair something if you don't know where it's damaged. So find out what made her upset first and then try to resolve it. That's what Mai does; that's what I do."_

He sighed as he heard the cabinet door slam shut and stood when the drawer followed the same pattern. It was time to take this out of the office. He wouldn't abide by the fact that a potential client could walk in to see him and Chiaki fighting. Marching out of his office, he grabbed Chiaki by the arm.

"Wha? Hey! Let go!" she cried, trying to struggle out of his grip, but it was like iron and her struggling was in vain. She'd once heard Mai tell her that he was very strong despite his thin frame. She'd never doubt the brunette again.

"Yes, let's go. Takahashi-san, please take notes and contact information should a client come by. We'll be back as soon as we're able." He didn't stick around to hear her reply. He simply propelled Chiaki to the door, wrenched it open, and led her down the stairs, with her struggling all the while.

The playground was deserted; school was still in session, so he didn't think they'd have to worry about prying eyes. He sent a glare to those playing hooking just in case and they slunk away, not wanting to remain in his line of sight. Finally, he let go of Chiaki and she whirled on him, her eyes blazing brilliantly with ire.

"What's the big idea?" she asked hotly. "What if I screamed?"

"Go right ahead," he told her disinterestedly, moving over to a tree and leaning against it. "Maybe you'll alert a cop. If you did, you'd have to tell them what I did that was wrong."

"Tell them… hello? Against my will much, Naru?" she sputtered, emphasizing his name.

He frowned at her. "What did I do to make you angry?"

She stared at him, her face giving away the fact that she was indeed angry with him.

"We can't resolve it if you don't tell me, Chiaki."

She resolutely tried to ignore the warm feeling that the word 'we' caused to slip down her spine and round into her stomach. She glared at the ground before blurting out, "It actually wasn't you. It was Lin-san. But… why didn't you call me, too? I _can_ help, you know!"

He understood immediately. "I'm sure in the entire furor and commotion calling you and demanding that you join us just never crossed his mind. Nor did it cross mine. We didn't do it to hurt you." He contemplated her for a moment as she sniffed at his explanation. "Did Mai ever tell you how she came to work for S.P.R.?"

"Some," Chiaki said, waving her hand vaguely. Quite honestly, she didn't want to hear about Mai. A small part of her wondered if Naru still had a crush on the brunette and it caused a pang in her heart.

"We met at her high school. Lin and I were investigating the so-called haunting of her old school building. It had an unsavory reputation and every time they tried to demolish it, an accident or, a series of accidents would happen that was blamed on the building. Mai got curious about the camera she saw in the building proper and went in to check it out. The shoe shelf fell and Lin pushed her out of the way, leaving himself injured in the process. I needed an assistant and she'd cost me a camera. During my investigations into her school, I also looked into her and found out that she was an orphan. So I offered her a job after we finished at her school. But while I was absent looking into the building and its cause for problems, another shelf fell and landed on Mai. That's when Eugene contacted her. He's been in contact with her ever since and she's my only connection to him. Like it or not, I truly needed her to be the buffer. I can admit that you made it exponentially easier when you showed up, but still, it's hard to remember calling for anyone but Gene. It wasn't done to hurt you."

"Well next time remember to call me, too! You said that I made it easier. I can help!" she repeated, her voice plaintive.

"I know," he soothed, reaching out and pulling her into his embrace. "And for the record, I'm sorry."

She believed him. And there went their fight. "You suck at fighting," she groused.

"That's because I'm too logical to fight. Not too rational to do this, however," he said, tilting her head upwards and sealing his lips to hers.

The world froze.

It took Chiaki a few seconds to process that his lips were pressed to hers and exerting a gentle pressure. Reaching out, she gripped his jacket and pulled him closer, kissing him back for all she was worth. He liked that she fit, that he didn't stiffen up at the prospect of her touches like he did with others; he could be comfortable in his own skin with her. Once, he thought that Mai would give him that. Once upon a time, a lifetime ago, he'd seriously thought that. Now he was glad she'd chosen Lin over him so he and Chiaki could have a chance. He moved their bodies back further into the shade and wedged her against the tree trunk, sliding his tongue smoothly into her mouth. When they separated, Chiaki leaned against him and sighed.

"I like fighting with you," she said.

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

She giggled and waggled her brows at him. "Silly. Making up is even better."

"We'll have to argue often then. But you know… we don't have to fight to make up," he told her, kissing her again.

He was right, she thought drowsily.

They walked back to the office hand-in-hand.

"I don't suppose you'll come to dinner tonight, will you?" she asked.

He stiffened at the question and she pulled away. It was far too soon. She should have known that.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know what came over me."

Annoyed, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side again. "It was an unexpected invitation, but I don't recall saying no." He paused for a moment. "Does your sister have to be there?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My mother insists on family dinners."

"At least they try," he commented. "What time should I be there?"

Her eyes lit up. "Then you'll come?"

"I'll join you, yes. What time and what, if anything, should I bring? I'm a horrible cook just so you know."

"Don't bring anything except yourself." She leaned closer. "Ne, do we have to go back to the office right away?"

"We should," he said, sounding like he didn't want to.

"But we can walk a little bit longer?"

He gave her a small smile. "We can walk a little bit longer. It'll give Lin some peace, I think."

They walked a bit longer before Naru voiced what he'd been thinking of.

"You were my anchor," he murmured.

"Eh?" She turned and looked at him.

"Back when we were at Asakawa-san's. One of Lin's Shikigami borrowed a bracelet that the demon was carrying around. Lin needed me to perform psychometry on it; he thought that the bracelet had seen the deal. But a story like the bracelet's was not a pleasant one. So I needed to anchor myself. _You_ were my anchor. Just you and me in the Dolphin Café on a rainy afternoon, talking and having tea, with a large, roaring fire keeping us warm; it anchored me and allowed me to come back to my senses easily."

Chiaki hugged his arm, a foolishly pleased smile crossing her lips. "That's wonderful to hear."

He smiled faintly. It had been a good thing to tell her, too.

…

Satoshi contemplated the staircase before her. Had it really been a week ago that she'd climbed these very steps and entered Shibuya Psychic Research? It _had_ been a week. A little over, actually. And in that time, she'd sublet her apartment, allowing for a newly married couple to take over her lease and moved back home. It was safe, now that that thing—demon, she reminded herself—wasn't haunting her. She still had the steering wheel that the demon had tossed to her. She kept it for memory's sake; whose memory she wasn't sure. Well, there was no time like the present. At the landing, she opened the door, listening to the tinkling bell. Strange, had that gone off when she first visited? Maybe it was connected to the office being open and it was closed when she came by. It was a possibility. And it really didn't matter.

"Welcome! It's good to see you, Atsuka-san. You don't have another case for us, do you?" a familiar voice greeted.

"Taniyama-san," she murmured awkwardly feeling a blush stain her cheeks.

Mai simply smiled at her and motioned her in. "Come in. Did you come to see Naru?"

"Shibuya-san? No. I came to see…"

"Lin?" Mai asked without rancor.

Satoshi nodded.

Mai sighed. "He's uncommonly popular, lately. I need to warn you, Atsuka-san, he's not in a very good mood right now."

"I could talk to Shibuya-san instead."

"Naru's not here right now." Mai smiled again. "He and Chiaki-chan are the reason for his ire. Well, partially," she amended.

"Ah… then Lin-san it is."

"Atsuka-san, I probably don't have to say it, but I will. Please refrain from teasing him about your underwear drawer or anything of the like. There's a good possibility that he'll take his temper out on you and having been on the receiving end of it, I can tell you it's not pretty."

"I understand."

"Good. I'll let him know you're here. In the meantime, would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

She went in to Lin's office after she'd served the tea.

"She can go away," Lin said crossly, vexed that she was here in the first place. He didn't want to deal with her. "It's all right with me if she does."

Mai smiled patiently. "I don't think she's going to hit on you. In fact, I think I'd be surprised if she did."

"Then what does she want?"

"Probably to discuss payment with you. In case it escaped your notice, Naru and Chiaki aren't here."

He stared at her, appalled that he hadn't known that; he'd been preoccupied with writing reports for the home office and worrying about Mai. "Where did they go and when?"

"Hopefully to get their fight out of their systems. It's been ever so much fun with them here and tip-toeing around each other," she said sarcastically. Smiling, she leaned over and touched her lips to his. "Play nice," she said teasingly.

Grumbling, he hoisted himself out of his chair and stalked out of the office. He didn't want to play nice. He didn't want to talk to her, have anything to do with her. Unfortunately, he had to deal with her in lieu of Naru being around. He trusted Mai when she voiced her belief that Atsuka-san wouldn't try to toy with him. And… he could admit to himself that he was behaving like a petulant, recalcitrant child.

"Atsuka-san," he said, striding over to her. "What can I do for you?" He motioned to the couches and took a seat on one, facing her.

"Firstly, it's Asakawa. I changed my name back to the one my parents gave me. Secondly, thank you for agreeing to see me. I know I'm not your favorite person."

She sat, observing that Mai had been right. He was definitely in a very bad mood. Licking her lips nervously, she reached into her purse and pulled out a check, sliding it towards him. Taking it, he opened the folded currency and raised a brow in surprise.

"That's quite an amount to give us, Asakawa-san."

She smiled ruefully. "Your theory was correct: my father did indeed drive the car." Her face became sad. "It's haunted him for so long. That money was to be for college—my late grandparents set the account up for him when he was born, but he put it into a trust fund for that girl and gave it to her. She hardly touched it. My father doesn't need the money and neither do I; neither of us want it, either. I don't know exactly what you did to get that creature to leave me alone, but it couldn't have been easy."

"You're certainly right about that," he told her. "It wasn't easy. And I'll be frank with you Asakawa-san, I didn't want to help you, either."

The door opened again, but Lin kept his eyes on their former client. It was simply Naru and Chiaki returning to the office; their auras were calmer, now, he noted absently. That was good.

"I understand that, and I'm very sorry I ever put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable. But I would like to make that up to you."

Lin tilted his head to the side, considering. "There is something you could do."

"Yes? What?"

"The American Civil War exhibition at the Tokyo Museum," he began.

Disgusted, Satoshi shook her head. "I'd rather not write about that collection, if it's all the same to you, Lin-san."

"You misunderstand me. I don't want you to write about the collection itself. Popular rumor has it that there's a body count connected to the collection and it goes back to the late eighteen hundreds."

She looked at him silently for a moment before a small, predatory smile crossed her face. "Well now. Well now. That _is_ interesting," she purred. "And right up my alley." She took a notebook and a pen out of her purse and watched him with a predatory look—the tiger that sighted its meal. "Tell me more."

"All I can tell you is that the victims of the collection died with extreme damage in their knees and ankles consistent with dancing or some other such sport."

Satoshi ruminated on what he said, contemplating how such damage could be caused. Certainly running could do it. Sneakers didn't exist until the late eighteen hundreds at the _earliest_ she knew, and from what she'd heard of the collection, it catered more to the life of the ladies, than the men. So what else could cause that damage… dancing, just as Lin had said. Dancing was the only other logical explanation and if there was a body count that had all that damage. But what in the world… a person certainly wouldn't just break out into dance for no reason… _unless they were possessed,_ she thought grimly, a severe smile tugged at the lips. _Possessed by a dancing ghost._

"A dancing ghost?" she asked him. Light dawned in her eyes. "There's something in that collection, isn't there? Something that the ghost, if that's what it is, is residing in, right? If it's causing damage to the knees and ankles… shoes—it has to be a pair of shoes, but not just _any_ shoes—dancing shoes." And there were dancing shoes she'd heard. Quite a few pairs. _Need victims,_ she thought, put _your shoes on display and let the ghost have its pick. But why,_ she wondered. _What on earth was that ghost looking for?_

Lin shrugged, neither denying nor acknowledging. "I can only speculate and say something to that effect. I can tell you that the ghost introduced itself to me as Annabelle."

"Introduced itself to you? Who is it, she, haunting?" Satoshi questioned.

Lin's gaze darted over to Mai before returning to her. Satoshi followed his look and her mouth dropped. Lin put one finger to his lips, motioning for silence. Shutting her mouth, she snapped the notebook closed and replaced them in her purse, rising.

"Look for it in tomorrow's paper," she said. "And thank you for everything." She bowed and was on her way. She could already see the article in her mind. All she needed to do was dig for some facts. And digging up facts was something she excelled at. Pulling out her cell phone, she put in a call to Jiro, her so-called 'partner-in-crime.'

"It's me," she said. "How's your arm? Good. I'm extremely happy to hear that. In the meantime, what say you to research? What kind of research? Whatever you can find for me about the shoes in that Civil War Collection—up to and including any sort of body count. Yes, I'll see you soon and I'll help you when I get there."

Lin watched her leave the office, a small smile lighting up his face. He doubted that McLaughlin was going to like what she came up with. He stood and stretched as his Shiki went into a tizzy. Enough, he'd decided. He had work to do. He needed Madoka to give him any and all information on one Benjamin Baker, up to and including his death. He couldn't call a spirit without some basic information. But a ghost this old he wondered if it would come at all. The other problem was how to allow them to dance. Lin was certain that Annabelle wouldn't leave Mai's body voluntarily _until_ she'd had her dance—which meant that Benjamin would need a host. Could he be the host, Lin wondered. Maybe. It would depend on the man's ghost—not him. All Lin could do was summon him. What was his contingency plan, then? If he couldn't be the host for Benjamin Baker , then whom? Takigawa-san might work; John? Possibly. Worst case scenario? Either Naru or Yasuhara-san.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he crossed the floor, heading for his office; the door opened just before he reached it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yasuhara's mouth drop open and jump up from his desk. The sorcerer whirled around, trying to calm his Shiki. He felt his own mouth drop open in shock and tried to recall the last time something had surprised him to this degree. Delicate rose petals floated in, preceding a palanquin that wouldn't fit through the door way—ruining the effect. The entourage accompanying this figure in the carriage was forced to set it down. The person stepped out regally, dressed like an emperor from the old days of Japan. Lin wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed or amused. In the end, neither emotion won out; instead he felt sorry for the person to be clothed in all those layers and wondered why he'd bothered. It helped that the two that followed the procession looked vaguely embarrassed. The scary thing, Lin decided, was that the person looked right at home stepping down from the chariot that brought him here.

"Your entourage will have to leave. Especially that monstrosity of yours," he said automatically.

The man pouted for a second but then said, "Of course."

Despite that, they remained where they were, silent, faces covered.

He had a well-cultured voice and looked vaguely familiar, too. He'd probably been on the news before, or something to the effect. Lin dismissed it; it wasn't important. The other two that strode in his wake were all over the television. Lin sighed; he now knew who the lavishly dressed man was: Takarada Lory of LME Studios. Now if he could only recall the other two.

"What possible business could you have with Shibuya Psychic Research?" Lin asked.

"I'm wondering that myself," Naru said, stepping out of his office and glaring at the fanfare. Lin could have sworn that the men who accompanied him flinched. "Leave," he commanded.

They scurried away as quickly as they could carry the palanquin away. Sometimes, Lin was grateful for that glare of his boss's.

Naru looked at the three new arrivals again. "You never answered my assistant. What brings you to S.P.R.?"

"We have business here."

"Do you? That seems unlikely."

Lory moved over to one of the over-stuffed chairs and sprawled indolently into it—the chair that Naru himself usually made use of when clients visited- and motioned his two employees to one of the couches; they took seats rigidly, unsure of what to expect. Lin felt a headache blossom in his temples.

"Take a seat," Naru said scathingly.

"Thank you. We'd like to discuss business," Lory said again, taking a cigar out and an ornate lighter.

Naru frowned and focused on the cigar; he'd take his lumps from Lin later, but for now… he was going to make this man who'd sprawled so indolently into _his_ chair understand that he meant actual business and that he wasn't a child. It didn't take much—just a brief spat of concentration before Takarada found the cigar falling from his fingers in three distinct pieces. He looked at Naru and frowned.

"Was that really necessary?" Lory asked.

"It was. There is a sign outside our building that prohibits smoking inside and right near entrances. Please be more aware of your surroundings in the future, Takarada-san. Lin, please ask Chiaki or Mai for some tea. Yasuhara-san, I'll need a pad and pen, please. Takahashi-san, let's start a new file for Takarada-san and LME Studios."

Lin thought about scolding Naru for using his PK, but decided against it. He couldn't blame the young man. He was going to do the same. Just this once he'd leave him alone about the deed. Satisfied that he wasn't going to do any more stunts, he moved into the kitchenette where he found Mai and Chiaki peeking out.

"What's with the commotion?" Chiaki whispered. She recognized Tsuruga Ren and like most girls in high school had fantasized about him, and yes, okay, squealed and screeched and all the things budding high school kids do with stars of the human variety. But that didn't do anything to take her mind off the mind-blowing kiss she and Naru had shared earlier—her lips were still tingling—or that he was coming to dinner later. She allowed her mind to wander… Naru, in her house, sharing a meal with her and her family… the thought sent warm shivers through her body. She'd already made plans for them to have a dessert picnic after dinner in a nearby part under the Sakura trees. She wondered how her mother would deal with her bringing home the guy she'd been dating. Her mom would probably faint when she learned that her daughter was dating the man she worked for. It was a happy prospect and she couldn't stop a smug smile from snaking across her face like lightning.

Lin sighed. "Might I ask you to bring some tea out to our guests?"

"Of course," Mai answered automatically. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back and offered her a strained smile. All three of them shared a look that said it all: whatever that man wanted, S.P.R. probably wasn't going to like it.

"No time like the present," Chiaki said, putting tea leaves into a teapot and pouring the water into it. She took out the cups and frowned. They really needed to buy a new set. She conveyed this to Mai with a look.

With a helpless shrug, Mai placed cookies and other pastries on a plate. Lin's blow up hadn't been pretty. It had left a mess of the cups and dishes and teas. On the other hand, they'd decided that they should get a new set—something besides the boring white. Lin had given them the perfect opportunity and reason.

"All right. I'm listening," Naru said, taking a sip of his tea.

Lory motioned to his two stars. "These two need to experience ghost hunting for roles in an up-coming drama."

Naru shook his head. "We don't take on apprentices."

"I know that. But I thought to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

Naru raised a brow. "How do you mean?"

"LME Studios has a studio that's been haunted for a few years now, or so everyone who's tried to work there claims. It was a studio that I acquired almost three years ago and have been experiencing problems with ever since. If I remember correctly, you contacted us when you first arrived in Japan asking if you could investigate the set."

"That was three, almost four years ago, Takarada-san. You're just _now_ getting back to me about it?" the young ghost hunter asked scornfully.

"Three years ago was a bad time," Lory admitted, looking sad. "I'd just lost my daughter-in-law in a plane crash. My son was a widower who had no time for Maria, his daughter, and Maria herself had distanced herself from the entire world because she blamed herself for wanting her mother to come home for her birthday, and because everyone else around her echoed that blame."

"I recall hearing about your daughter-in-law and I'm sorry for your loss. But that, at this point, is neither here nor there and callous as it's going sound, I don't much care. If your set is haunted, you might want to call a priest," Naru suggested, slightly bored.

_This wasn't going well at all_, Lory told himself. If his researchers had been right, then the boy wasn't interested in money… still, operating in Shibuya had to be costly. Could he sweeten the pot by picking up the rent or allow him to operate rent free by acquiring the building? That had possibilities. He made a mental note to contact his lawyers and telling him to look into this building.

"I have. They've tried, but what they've done hasn't worked. That's why I said kill two birds with one stone. They need to learn ghost hunting; I need a studio put back to rights." Lory spread his hands. "I'm willing to also pay you any sum you ask if you can rid that set of its specter."

Naru stayed silent, contemplating his options. He hadn't especially wanted to investigate the studio. What he'd wanted to do was get Shibuya Psychic Research's name out there in circulation. But that wasn't necessary as of now. It was, however, an opportunity if nothing else, to kill three birds with one stone. Perhaps they could utilize the property for a spell or two after he got rid of the specter or specters. There would have to be some ground rules—especially because of the two that President Takarada wanted to tag along, but he could deal with that.

"We'll need to set some ground rules," he told Lory.

Takarada nodded. "Of course."

"First rule is no footage."

Lory blinked and blanched. "None?"

"Not without my express permission. Don't try me on this, Takarada-san. If you've done your homework and I'm sure you have, then you know that Shibuya Psychic Research is an off-shoot of the British Society of Psychic Research and that they have longer arms than you do. Therefore, I have to insist on no recordings whatsoever. Any footage will be taken on our end." He turned to the two that he'd be 'apprenticing.' "Second rule: what decisions I make regarding you two is not up for debate, period. If I tell you to get back, I mean get back. Ghost hunting is not a game and it can be dangerous. Some specters can hurt the bystander and they don't care because they're not saddled with a human conscience. So if I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it, no questions asked."

Ren and Kyuoko nodded.

"Then I'll see you both at that set at nine in the morning to sign paperwork and release papers and so on; since it's an apprenticeship of sorts, you won't be paid. If you're late, you're out, that's it; I won't hear excuses. Also, come prepared to work and pull your weight. You know what they say, 'experience is the best teacher.' You'll get it in droves. I'll see you two tomorrow morning. And Takarada-san, leave the palanquin and dramatics at home next time."

After they'd left Lin glared at Naru. "We don't have time for this," he said angrily. "Mai's—"

"Are you confident in your spells?" Naru asked.

Lin blinked, surprised that the young man had asked. "Of course I am."

"Then Annabelle should remain sealed for the time being. We've confirmed that all she wanted was one last dance. This case, I don't think it will take very long, either." He sighed. "I contacted LME Studios to get Shibuya Psychic Research's name out there, not because I was especially interested in his haunted set. But as an added bonus, we get slave labor. And… if it's a movie set, then possibly we can summon Annabelle and her lover there and exorcized them, too. Three birds with one stone."

Lin frowned. "I need a few more pieces of information before I try to summon anyone's ghost. On that point, I don't need to summon Annabelle, I just need to remove the bracelet on Mai's wrist. Let's finish this soon, Naru. Mai can't have Annabelle possessing her forever. Even I have my limits."

Naru nodded. "I know. Go home with her; I'll tell Madoka that we need that information sooner rather than later. She should have it all."

"What are you going to do?"

"Me? I have a dinner date tonight."

Lin heaved a dramatic sigh, but maybe he and Mai could have a nice dinner of their own. He knew just the restaurant. The door to the office opened again and the bell chimed and Lin frowned at yet another interruption.

"Welcome to Shibuya Psychic Research. How may we help you?" Yasuhara asked.

"I think I just saw someone dressed up in a Cosplay," the person said, bewildered.

"That was a client who's overly dramatic," Yasuhara said, smiling winningly. "How may we help you?" he asked again.

"I'd… like a consultation," the man said.

Lin nodded and looked at Yasuhara.

"Right," the bespectacled boy said, taking charge. "Why don't you take a seat and start by tell us what your problem is."

"Are you in charge?"

"No…" Yasuhara said.

"You?" the man asked, turning to Lin.

Lin shook his head, too tired and too frustrated to be amused. "I'm an assistant." He gestured to Naru who'd finally looked up. "This is the person in charge of this establishment."

Naru stepped forward. "I'm Shibuya. What can I help you with…?"

"You?" He hesitated, meeting Naru's chilly eyes. "…Hashimoto. Hashimoto Masaharu."

"What brought you to S.P.R. today, Hashimoto-san?" Yasuhara-san asked, motioning to the couch.

The man finally took the seat that Yasuhara had indicated. "I'm the principal of Setsuda Prep School. I heard about you from Yuasa High School; the principal recommended you to me, said you were able to help his school, so… I thought perhaps you could help mine."

Chiaki stayed oddly silent at that proclamation.

"What seems to be happening at your school?"

Hashimoto took a deep breath. "I… have reason to believe that a few of my students are practicing magic to get what they want." He shook his head. "Just saying it sounds odd."

Lin looked at Naru and Naru looked back.

"That's hardly a reason to come to us," Naru said, taking the seat that Lory Takarada had vacated.

"It is when it's black magic. I've called and talked to everyone I can think of. Problem is, magic isn't a crime—indeed you'd have to believe magic exists."

_Oh, it exists, all right,_ Lin thought, he face blank.

Unaware of Lin's sudden thought, the man continued. "But I believe it _is_ a crime if people are injured to ensure that others get what they want."

The entire office went eerily silent.

"What do you mean?" Naru asked.

"You've seen _The Craft_, yes? It's an American film—a movie about four girls who practiced magic against those who made them angry. Same principle in my case. I believe that three of my students are following that movie's example. And people have been injured because of it."

Naru folded his hands. "I'm listening," he said simply.

"The first person to be injured was one of the popular boys who's involved with the Kendo Club—Matsuyama Tetsuya-. When the accident happened during a club meet, no one really thought much of it because injuries can happen. A few days later, the club's teacher came to me voicing his concerns over the accident. Shinai are bamboo, he said. They can't stab someone through the shoulder, which is what the hospital said happened—surmising that a real katana had been used instead of the bamboo replica. The teacher, however, is vehement that only shinais were used. When I asked him if there was anything irregular about the practice that day, he only commented that he thought it was a normal practice day, but that the three girls that were there to watch he'd never seen before.

"Now that in and of itself isn't unusual. Students check the club practices out all the time to determine whether or not they want to join. I myself didn't think much of it. Then the second person was injured and that made me think that it couldn't be coincidence. Takano Hikari, a well-loved, popular girl was injured. She is part of the archery club and an arrow went astray and hit her in the side—thankfully, no vital organs were hit, but even so, it's a strange happenstance. And again, the teacher in charge said club practice wasn't unusual, but did remark that she'd never seen those particular girls at a practice before." He hesitated for a second but continued, "I… took it upon myself to look into this matter. Once could be coincidence which I've never believed in. Twice, three times, that's not coincidence—that's more like planned."

"What, if anything, were you able to discover?" Lin asked.

"Do these girls have names?" Mai asked.

Closing his eyes the principal nodded. "Tezuka Eri, Tsuchino Megumi, Hajima Yukari. And what I found was that Tezuka Eri had a crush on Matsuyama Tesuya, but he rebuffed her request to date him claiming that he and Takano-san had been dating since middle school."

"Scorned girl. First the boy, then the girl. If I can't have him, no one can," Naru commented.

"Yes."

"What was the third accident?" Yasuhara asked.

He was quiet for such a long time that they thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, "Amano Shizuka-sensei. She was the one who dug up the supposed reason behind the first two accidents. She's still in the hospital. If someone doesn't stop them, death will be the result."

Naru's face was like stone. Mai had no doubt that he'd take the case.

"Give us three days," he said. "That flamboyantly dressed man has just contracted us to solve a haunted movie set. After that, we're all yours."

"Not all of you. And not under the pretense for investigation."

"What do you mean?" Mai asked.

Naru however, simply nodded. "If all of us come to the school to investigate something, they'll know something's up and they'll get nasty. You don't want more injuries because you brought people in."

"You're asking us to infiltrate," Lin deduced, looking at the principal.

"Yes. Amano-sensei is their homeroom and main teacher for the class those girls are in. I could swing a new student and a new teacher."

Naru thought fast. The only one who looked like he could pose as a teacher was Lin. Mai was the only one who could safely pose as a student—and that was pushing it because Mai had matured so very much. Chiaki looked like she was in college: the same went for Takahashi-san and Yasuhara-san. Hara-san's face was too well known. John had filled out enough that he couldn't be a student. And, Naru realized, that he himself couldn't be a student, either. But for something like this, he'd need Matsuzaki-san at the very least and possibly Bou-san, if at all possible. He asked, "Could you swing a new counselor and an assistant for that counselor?"

"I think I can manage that. Who did you have in mind?"

"Taniyama-san is the only one who can safely pose as a student. Lin is the only one who can pose as a teacher and can actually do the job. Amano-sensei teaches what subject or subjects?"

"History and English."

Naru looked at Lin who nodded back. "I think he can manage that. Matsuzaki-sensei will be your new guidance counselor and I'll be her assistant. If you can swing it, Takigawa-san can help out a gym teacher. If not, I absolutely need Matsuzaki-san."

"Done. I'll see what I can do about Takigawa-san, but I can't promise anything."

"We'll see you in three days." Once the man was gone Naru turned to Lin. "Let's have Annabelle gone before we take this case."

"Agreed. Children using black magic, Naru. That promises to be very bad."

"I know. That's why we'll need Matsuzaki-san. But let's get through the haunted set in one piece then we'll worry about the students who are playing at _The Craft_."

…

As Asakawa-san had promised, the article was there in the morning edition of the Tokyo Newspaper. It was actually the front-cover story. Lin had no idea what she'd done to get her story on the front page, but he had to give her credit: she'd uncovered quite a lot of facts in a short amount of time and spun an article from them. It was a good article, too. He found that he enjoyed her straight-forward account that was asked only one question at the very end: who would be the next victim? If he had anything to say about it, McLaughlin would be the final victim; he had some ideas about that. He folded the paper again. By now, McLaughlin should be hearing from the museums he'd contracted with. Lin didn't know how right he was, but he had a good idea.

**A/N: **And this ends chapter nine, part one. This is a long chapter, guys. Fifty-three pages long. So I'm splitting it up and I'll post the next part next week. The next part will conclude the case of the Haunted Set affiliated with LME Studios. Leave me lot's of reviews in the meantime!


	10. Roses From the Past, part two

_See? It's here, just as I promised: the conclusion of chapter nine! Now onto chapter ten... Again, thanks to Cold_Queen_5 for being an awesome beta!  
_

Jeffrey had a bad feeling. It had started last evening and grown stronger as the night progressed into the early hours of the morning, waking him from sleep. It wasn't the feeling that something bad was _going_ to happen; it was the feeling that something _had_ happened and they were going to hear about it soon. The feeling had been so strong, that he hadn't been able to get back to sleep. He'd slipped from bed, dressed, and gone for a walk in the dark-gray light of the coming dawn. Now he was back and Sam still wasn't awake. He, however, was sitting in the common room, brooding over a document on his laptop, and drinking his fifth cup of tea, and wishing to God that he'd ordered coffee instead. He contemplated calling room service and ordering some, but for whatever reason, he didn't.

He heard Sam's cell phone ring in the man's bedroom. The man's ringtone was so damned loud you couldn't _not _hear it. Jeff often thought that Sam had it as loud as he did to promote his own self-importance, because Jeff knew for a fact that there wasn't a thing wrong with Sam's hearing. It certainly wouldn't surprise him if self-importance was the answer. Once again, that intense wave of knowing that something was wrong returned with a vengeance, twisting his stomach into slimy coils of fear. He heard Sam answer it and had to give his boss credit. He might have been sleeping, but he sure didn't sound like it. Jeff envied that.

"This is McLaughlin, yes. Ah, Mr. Matsushima… yes? Ah, I see. Yes, of course. No, no, that's fine; I understand." The door connecting the bedroom to the common room opened, admitting the disheveled sight of Sam. "I thank you very much for considering my collection. Goodbye."

To Jeff, that thank you had sounded very much like 'go fuck yourselves.' "What was that?" he asked.

"The Kyushu National Museum," Sam said, tapping the phone on his palm and frowning angrily. "They've changed their minds about my collection gracing their hallowed halls."

Jeff had been right. But it wasn't over yet, he knew, looking at the phone pensively. Sure enough… it rang again.

"McLaughlin," Sam said, flipping it open. "Mr. Arimatsu. Ah… what? But it was supposed to stay for another week—that was what we agreed on since it was so successful." Sam's lips compressed into a thin, irritated line. "I understand. I'll be down at the museum within the hour. Yes. Thank you for allowing my collection to be shown."

He was pouring the bullshit on thick, Jeff noted. Another way of saying 'go get fucked.' "Now what?"

"Now? That was the Tokyo National Museum. They're boxing up the collection and readying it for shipping back to America." He raked a hand through his hair. "I need to dress and get to the museum. Get some plane tickets, Jeff. Looks like we're going home early." He picked up Jeff's tea cup and drained it. Pulling a face, he shuddered and stared at the dregs left in it. "What the hell was that?"

"Tea."

"Oh, God. Disgusting stuff. Can't they make coffee? I've always felt that any country that drinks tea instead of coffee is a little bent." He started to go back to his room but paused at the threshold. "And Jeff?"

"Hmm?" the other man said, already searching out plane tickets.

"Don't think you're going to stay here just a bit longer. Remember that exorbitant pay check you receive weekly," he said, his voice menacing.

Jeff started and turned to look at his boss. "I just… wanted to try and talk to him again. One last time," he said guiltily.

"Do it today," he ordered.

Jeff watched him go and turned back to the computer, feeling leaden. He needed some airplane tickets, he thought dully, they were leaving tomorrow if he could find the tickets and he was sure he would. He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to remove the exhaustion and failing miserably. As he scrubbed at his tired eyes, a plan seemed to form. What if... yes, what if...he couldn't get two plane tickets for the same time or even the same plane? It happened all the time, didn't it? And if that was the case, he thought, looking at the other room from the corner of his eye, then what could Samuel McLaughlin say? Now that he thought about it, another radical idea floated into his brain. He'd have to wait to make the phone call, but Sam would be leaving soon. Sometimes, it wasn't the devil you knew; sometimes it was the devil you didn't. He meant to talk to his son. He didn't care if hell or high water came first. He heard Samuel's door close and the man walk away talking on his phone; looking at the computer's clock and decided what the hell, it was a good a time as any. Picking up his cell phone, he punched in a number.

"Yes, hello, I'm trying to reach Detective Daniel Reagan. He is? I see. Well, if you could get this message to him?" He paused and looked at the door partitioning the rooms. "I'm ready to talk and I want a deal. I'm waiting for your return call, Jeffrey Smith. He can reach me on my cell phone. He has the number, yes. Let me give you the regional information—I'm not in the States right now."

…

Sunday Dinners at the Regan household were always a grand affair. Well, not always, but this time it was. What they definitely were, were scrumptious—always, and a time for family to get together and leave work behind, if only for a few hours. This dinner, in honor of Erin's birthday, the family ate yams, arugula salad, and eggplant parmesan; a red velvet cake sat in the fridge for dessert. It was the birthday woman herself who brought up Danny's sudden re-interest in the case of the shoe thieves.

"So, Danny, I thought that the mayor told you to lay off Sam McLaughlin."

"He did. And before you say it, I can't touch the man. Literally. He's in Japan, not America," Danny said, stuffing baked eggplant into his mouth with a forkful of yams and returning to his plate for more.

"So why the sudden re-interest?"

"Let's just say that new information has come to light." He hoped Erin would drop it there, but one look at her and he knew that wasn't going to happen. He glanced at his father who placidly continued to eat, seemingly ignoring the conversation. So no help there, either.

"I heard," she commented cutting into a thin slice of eggplant and shoveling some salad onto her fork. "From Japanese detectives and a ghost chaser," she finished, subtly emphasizing the words'ghost chaser.'

_There it was,_ Danny thought with a sardonic grin. It wasn't the sudden re-interest; it was where the information came from. Thankfully, she hadn't heard that Jeffrey Smith had called looking for him and until he knew exactly what the man wanted to talk to him about (or confess—that would make the detective even happier) he wasn't going to say a word, except to his father and other pertinent parties.

"Ghost Hunter," he corrected. "Actually, he's a Paranormal Investigator. His name's Dr. Oliver Davis."

"What's the difference?" Jack asked.

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but shut it and looked at his eldest son thoughtfully. "You know, I don't know. I'll have to ask. Actually, he seemed pretty smart for a guy younger than Jamie."

Nikki perked up at that. "My age?" she asked.

Danny shook his head. "No, older than you. I'd say he's around eighteen, nineteen."

"Really? Is he cute and single?" she asked eagerly.

Erin sighed dejectedly and stared at the suddenly unappetizing remains of her food sitting on her plate. _God,_ _**really**_, she wondered. _Already?_

Danny stared at her, fork half-way to his mouth. "Cute? Single? You think I care?"

Nikki just stared at him. Danny looked at his father and found the man watching him with a small, amused grin on his face. _Still_ no help from him.

"You notice everything, Uncle Danny," she said, in that smug, superior way that made him thankful that she was Erin's problem and not his.

Danny stuffed the fork in his mouth and chewed, thinking about the slender young man with an aesthetic face, black hair, and large blue eyes that were colder than winter. An almost polar opposite from his biological father, Danny decided. "I suppose I'd call him handsome. Is he single?" he asked, addressing Nikki's next question. "I don't know and I don't care. It's not like you'd be able to have any sort of relationship with him seeing as he's on the other side of the globe." He put his fork down and looked at his watch. "Actually, I think we're due for a Skype session with Ms. Mori and Lieutenant Chamberlin soon, dad."

Frank looked at his own watch. "You're right. I don't know if I have Skype on the computer here. In any event, I don't know how secure the internet here is."

"Dad, we're not talking about an active case and I think the mayor's too busy pondering his own greatness to care. Besides, your internet's safe; your guys made sure of it, remember?"

"That doesn't mean I have Skype on the computer," Frank retorted.

Before Danny could answer, Nikki butted in. "Why don't you use my laptop? I have Skype on mine."

Father and son looked at each other. "And just what do you want for this generosity, Nikki?" Frank asked smiling knowingly at his granddaughter.

"What? I just want to say I've met people from Japan. It would so give me bragging rights."

The two men shared another look and frowned. It seemed to be a small price to pay.

"No funny business. It's official—got it?" Danny asked.

"Of course. I'd never do anything to embarrass you or grandpa."

"Right," he muttered under his breath. He shot a sour look to Erin who simply shrugged as if to say, 'what?' Nikki looked at him expectantly. "Well? Go get your laptop."

…

_Nine o'clock, Monday morning; LME Studios…_

Naru had to give them credit: they were prompt—especially the girl, Kyuoko-san, she'd been half an hour early, racing in like the hounds from hell were chasing her. His gaze shifted over to Hara Masako. For once, he was glad to see her. She'd returned from Yokohama last night and called him, asking if there was anything new. The medium stood alone looking around to see if anything she could find would bring insight. Briefly, he wondered what she and Tsuruga-san were talking about, but dismissed it. He didn't actually care.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Ren asked, standing beside her. It was an older studio, but still grand in its own way. High, vaulted ceilings gave an air of majesty; lights hung from those ceilings, but they were tucked in such a way that they could be recessed if they needed to. There were corridors in this studio—hallways that led to the dressing rooms, makeup rooms, storage. Ren wondered what the studio would look like after its remodel. Knowing the president, it would be grandiose—like everything else he did.

She shook her head. "It's horrible," she whispered.

"What's horrible, Hara-san?" He didn't personally know her; she worked with a studio that was independent of LME, but he knew of her. They occasionally saw each other at the same parties, though he'd never conversed with her before; she treated the affairs like there was something disturbing about them and had a reputation for being an ice queen at them—freezing everyone and everything out. Now that he thought about it, she probably didn't like being at those parties that her grandmother forced her to attend. That didn't change the opinion that he thought she was a fraud, just like other people who claimed they could see the dead. And when she stayed silent to his question, she reaffirmed his belief that she was a complete fake.

"How should I describe what a haunting looks like to someone who can't see?" she asked at last, listening to the warped screams and injured cries of the trapped spirits. Three of them and they knew they were here and that she and Mai could hear and see them. She glanced over at Mai who didn't look so peppy and looked around furtively. She hardly blamed the other medium. Whatever had happened here was not pretty, if the warping she was witnessing around her was any sort of indicator. There were times when she cursed the gods for this power of hers. This was one of them. She lifted her kimono sleeve a tad bit higher, covering her nose and mouth.

"I can see just fine, Hara-san."

She shook her head, slightly nauseated. "But you don't." Maybe 'can't' was a better word for this. She gestured around her. "You can see this world, this plane of reality. I see both worlds, both planes and the bodies that left their imprints here." She nodded to Mai. "She does, too."

Ren looked over at the brunette who stood by Lin-san's side, listening to Naru. She looked… out of sorts, he decided, like she was trying to decide whether or not to be sick. Leaving the medium, he went over to them.

"Shibuya-san, good morning," he greeted, bowing.

"Let's get started," he commanded, ignoring the salutations. "We're still waiting for the other three, but let's start setting up. Mogami-san, you're going to assist Lin setting up the computers, tables, and shelves, and what not in the control booth over there," he said, nodding to the walled-in room that housed all the equipment for sound and so on. "You two will have to dismantle and move what can be moved in order to set up the equipment we need. That space will be our base room; it's more than large enough. It's more ideal to have a separate space, but we'll make do with what the studio has.

"Tsuruga-san, you'll assist Mai with the cameras and microphones and the thermographs, setting them up on the plan that I've given her. Doing these things: setting up the cameras, mics, and establishing a base room helps us to create a perimeter for us to work within. Takahashi-san, Chiaki, I need temperatures of this area, the dressing rooms, so on; you two know what to do. Yasuhara-san, please assist with unloading the van, and should you see Bou-san and the rest, direct them here and tell Matsuzaki-san to make some charms. Everyone understand their assignments? Good. Let's get to it." Naru wandered over to a card table and opened the brown file folder and immersed himself in the details there. He would need to interview the president one more time, he notated mentally.

Ren looked over Mai's shoulder at the map and saw no rhyme or reason to it. "What's with all the weird marks?" he asked.

"That's where we'll put the cameras and mics," she told him. "'C' for camera and 'M' for microphone, see?" she asked, pointing. "We were talking to the staff that's worked in this studio trying to get a sense of where the activity is. We'll put the cameras where the marks are."

"Ah." Then he frowned. "But… didn't you arrive around the same time that Mogami and I did?"

"We've been here since seven, actually."

"But Shibuya-san said that he wanted us here at nine…" he trailed off.

Mai smiled at him. "Naru tries to get an early start so he can get a feel of the place and he wanted to talk to some of the staff," she told him, thinking back to the shuttered expressions of the associates as they reluctantly related some of the stories they'd either experienced or heard. A thought occurred to her. "Tsuruga-san, what was here before this particular studio?"

He looked at her strangely. "It's always been a studio. This particular studio belonged to another company until Takarada-san bought it."

"How long ago did he buy it?"

He looked at her, perplexed. "Three years ago, Taniyama-san."

"The trouble began when he bought it?"

Ren opened his mouth to agree but shut it and looked at her thoughtfully. "You know, I don't actually know. All I know is that this particular set has been in the President's hands for three years and it seems that he's been having trouble with it ever since. Did Shibuya-san arrive here to talk to the staff without Mogami-san or myself present?" he asked, changing the subject.

Her lips twitched at the minute rancor in his voice. "I don't think it had anything to do with either of you. That's just the way he does things. He's a horrible work-a-holic, as you'll come to see. Speaking of work, let's get started before the dragon snaps at us." She hefted some of the cameras and motioned to the ones on the ground. "Tally-ho, Tsuruga-san."

Taking the remaining cameras, he followed Mai to the first point on the map, his mind on Mogami-san working with the man Shibuya had called Lin.

"You don't have to worry about her," Mai interjected, interrupting his thoughts. "Lin-san won't do anything to her and he won't let anything happen to her, either."

"You know him well."

"I do," she admitted.

When she didn't expand on the subject he let it go. It really wasn't important. He followed her as she went to the first spot on the crude map.

"These cameras are heavy," Ren commented, wondering now why she wasn't going crazy with a celebrity alongside her.

"Yep," Mai agreed.

"And you lug them to and fro for each and every case."

"Guilty as charged."

"And Shibuya-san does what?"

Mai smiled. "He's the boss. But Tsuruga-san," she said, hoisting a camera a bit higher so the strap sat on her shoulder, "he's hauled the equipment before, set up the cameras before, programmed them. Don't look down on him because he gives out orders. Leave that for the regulars and irregulars," she told him with a small smile. "We're very close to the first point where he wants the cameras…" she trailed off and froze.

Something was standing behind her.

Something very malicious.

Something that did not want her and the team she was with at this studio and would do everything in its power to make sure they left—the dead or alive addendum being optional.

She flinched as the malevolence that surrounded her grew, trying to invade.

That was when she fought back. She already had one ghost possessing her. She certainly didn't need another one. She pushed back, gripping the camera strap and crushing it beneath her fingers.

"Taniyama-san?" Ren asked, when Mai stopped speaking and moving. He leaned forward, wondering if the girl had suffered an injury or any sort of malady.

The feeling of invasion stopped the minute he spoke to her. Ren felt something slither away resentfully and out of the corner of his eye thought he saw something make a displeased face before disappearing. He blinked and shook his head, certain he'd imagined it and knowing full well that he hadn't.

"Here," Mai said, setting down the cameras, her eyes unfocused. "We'll set the first one up here."

"But it's not where Shibuya-san wants it."

"That's all right. This is where the activity will be." Her eyes cleared. "It almost feels like this could be the epicenter of it all."

Ren took it all back about them being frauds because he'd felt something, too. He wouldn't ever admit it to any living soul, but for just that instant…something had caused him to get goosebumps.

…

Lin surveyed the spacious control booth, marveling at the size. This one was much larger than the ones he'd seen; Naru was right: this was more than adequate for a base room. Some wards, however, to protect this room from disaster if nothing else was paramount. He didn't know precisely what he sensed, but he did know that it certainly wasn't benign. He'd send his "helper" on an errand and do just that. He shifted his attention. The sheer size of the room didn't change the fact that the equipment would have to go. He needed the space. Fortunately, it looked like once they cleaned the shelves off the monitors would fit just fine. There was no need for the collapsible one's they'd brought. A table could easily be set up to contain the computers… but the sound equipment could be moved, he noticed. It just needed to be dismantled. Well, needs must, he decided and turned to Mogami-san.

"I need some heavy duty boxes, Mogami-san, to hold all this loose equipment."

"Ah, right away!" she said, rushing away.

Making sure she was gone, he whispered a spell, warding the room. That would do until he could put up a few charms. While he waited for her to bring back a box or two, he stripped off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work dismantling the equipment. As he did, his mind turned to the case that waited for them after this one. Kids with black magic. That bothered him more than he could convey because all magic—from the simple wards he'd put up to the more complex charm bracelet with its baby shikigami that he gave to Mai to keep Annabelle and her damned shoes in stasis—had a price, and it had to be paid, because at some point, everyone paid the piper. Ryokuryo High School was a prime example, he recalled. All the students who'd participated in the curse to kill a teacher—even if it failed on their part and even if he'd used hitogatas as replacements for the students themselves some of them had _still_ suffered beyond what the effigies were able to absorb.

_What 'price' would those kids have pay for this,_ he wondered. _And more importantly, __**why **__were they doing this?_ His helper returned, wheeling in some boxes on a heavy duty equipment cart and he put it away, surveying what he'd gotten done in the brief time she'd been gone. He'd disassembled all of the sound recording machinery. Wires lay in neat loops on the ground; the synthesizers and mixers were stacked precisely next to them. Kyouko gaped at the amount he'd done in such a short amount of time. He paused and glanced over at her.

"Problem?" he asked mildly.

She shook her head frantically. "No, no!" she stuttered, waving her hands as if she were batting his question away. She dropped her arms and clasped her hands, looking at the ground. "I'm just… amazed at what you've gotten done. I haven't been gone very long."

He tilted his head to the side and regarded her seriously. "I started without you. I'm very adept at cleaning spaces off and making room." He went over to one of the boxes and grabbed one, putting the pieces he'd taken apart in the first one. He paused again and looked back at her. "You thought perhaps that I was some bum in a suit who would make you do all the work?" At her blush, he chuckled. "Rest assured, Mogami-san, I pull my own weight."

"Yes. I'm sorry. What should I do?" she asked.

He gestured to the remaining boxes and the rest of the equipment, abandoning his box. "You might start by putting the rest of the equipment in the boxes. When you're done with that, clear off the shelves there and wipe them down."

"And you…?"

"I'm going out to the van to get the stuff I'll need. Yasuhara-san should have it unloaded by now. Should anyone who claims to work for Shibuya-san poke their head in here, tell them to go see him for instructions. I'll be back, Mogami-san and please be careful. If it feels too heavy, leave it alone and I'll move it."

"Right."

Lin left the base room and headed out to the van, snagging the trolley cart on the way. He loaded the monitors and computers and took them back in. Back in the base room, most of the stuff sat neatly within the boxes. He nodded approvingly and unloaded what he'd brought in and carted out what they didn't need.

"Umm…" Kyouko asked a bit later when he was running a systems check. All was in order; all that was left was to sync the monitors to the cameras when they were done being set up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"What does a base room have to do with ghost hunting?"

It was a legitimate question. He turned to her. "The base room is as it sounds: a place for operations in a space being investigated." He turned back to the computers. "We run our investigations from a base room so that we're in one centralized place instead of all over. One of the mistakes of amateurs is having no centralized anything; their investigations are them walking around trying to glimpse or sense something; it looks like a sham on their parts even if they're legit. If we have a base room where we can all congregate then we also have a better sense of what should and shouldn't be, including members of our crew."

"Then the cameras that Tsuruga-san and…I've forgotten her name," Kyouko said, trailing off.

"Taniyama," he told her. "Taniyama Mai-san. Those are night cameras. They're able to record in the dark and throughout the night."

"Ah… aren't we staying here, though?"

"Not at this point in time. We don't know what's going on; staying here would be a mistake." At least, he _hoped_ they weren't staying here tonight.

"But the president said it's haunted…"

"It may be and that's part of the issue. Hauntings come in various degrees based on the question of 'why.' In our case, why is this set haunted? What happened here to cause a haunting? Can it be harmful to other people? And then there's one more question: _is it_ really haunted or is a human responsible?"

"But the president said…" she began again.

"True," Lin acknowledged, turning back to the computers and tapping a few keys. "But he also said that he really doesn't know. All he has is hearsay. Humans can also cause poltergeist activity, Mogami-san."

"I… didn't know that," she said, fiddling with the hem of her top.

_Didn't you?_ Lin wondered, watching her fidget in the reflection of his monitors.

"And... if… I needed… something cleansed?" she asked.

"Cleansed, Mogami-san?"

She fidgeted, staying silent. Lin sighed and turned back to her. "Mogami-san, contrary to popular belief I am not a mind-reader and since you're shifting to and fro, I won't ask you. If you feel that you're in possession of an object that needs to be cleansed, then Matsuzaki-san's your best bet. She should be here soon."

"Ah. Thank you!" she said bowing.

A short time later, they were all gathered back in the base room and Naru was speaking to Mogami-san and Tsuruga san. "Ambient temperature is an important measurement in ghost hunting. The temperatures that Chiaki recorded are normal, a bit high in some of the rooms, but that's due to the amount of people in the room. If a spirit is around, the temperature drops, drastically enough to be felt by people. As an example, Lin, please pull up the Morishita case files."

Turning to the computer, Lin typed a command on the keyboard and navigated with the mouse until he found the file that Naru wanted before stepping away from the computer and relinquishing it to him. Moving over to the desktop, Naru motioned Ren and Kyouko forward until they were looking at the screen.

"What are we looking at, Shibuya-san?" Ren asked. The numbers and abbreviated letters on the document made no sense to him.

"Those are temperatures taken with a digital thermometer," he told them.

Now Ren understood. They were measurements of different rooms. MB meant Master Bed—or maybe Master Bath.

"I just mentioned that room temperature is important. Take a look and tell me what you see."

He and Kyouko stared at the document before Ren looked up and said, "This can't be right. Was your thermometer malfunctioning?"

"It was not. Digital thermometers generally don't," Lin informed him. "We just told you that spirits affect the temperatures and quite drastically at times." At Ren's skeptical look, Lin went further to say, "Whether or not you, personally, believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, Tsuruga-san is irrelevant. You will have a role where the character does believe. Not only does that character believe, but he works within that belief. If you can't suspend whatever you believe, then perhaps you ought to have a meeting with your president and explain to him that you are unsuited for this role?"

Ren stayed silent and glared at the Chinese man, not wanting to concede verbally that Lin was right.

Ironically enough, during Lin's speech, the temperature in the base room began to drop. At first it was imperceptible. Soon though, Mai began to shiver; she looked around suspiciously. Something was coming. The edges of her vision begin to darken. A few seconds later, her breath was somewhat visible and she could feel _it_ hovering, waiting impatiently for the right time to snag her. She looked at Naru and her boyfriend just as the lights began to flicker. Kyouko gasped softly and moved closer to Ren in an unconscious effort to battle the rapidly dropping temperature. That was when it went wrong, a trick: the figure appeared in a blast of flickering lights. A tragic woman dressed in the classic white. She looked at all of them without actually seeing any of them and let loose a hideous screech before disappearing in a dramatic fade. Lin and Naru shared a tired look; someone was playing a joke with that figure. But the temperature and flickering lights… well, the flickering lights could be part of the joke, but… but… not the temperature that was still falling. They could see their breath as they exhaled. Mai had also moved closer to Lin, her eyes wide and almost dilated.

In the little used control room near the dressing rooms, two figures looked at each other and shared a laugh.

"This old set's no more haunted than my stinking bathroom at home," one chortled.

"Yeah. But the prez thinks it is so he hired them…"

The temperature in their room plunged into freezing and black ice began to… the only word they could think of was flow over the equipment, encasing everything in the glistening, frozen waste. They backed up, shivering and regretting ever playing a joke.

"Hey…" one said, moving towards the door. "I thought you said this place _wasn't_ haunted."

"It's a joke," the other said. No matter how confident his voice sounded, his look was unsure.

"If you say so. Haunted or not, I'm getting the hell out." He turned to the door and found it encased in black ice. Biting his lip, he wrapped his hand in a handkerchief and tried to grab the knob. He screamed when the cold went straight through, burned, and took some flesh with it. Behind them, the ice formed a sinister shape. It was the last thing they ever felt. They slipped to the floor, dead before they hit and the ice began to recede until there was nothing left. In its place, were twin pools of blood spreading around the dead two. A shadowy figure coalesced in the room for just a moment and peered down at them with furious eyes before disappearing again.

In the base room, Mai slumped to the ground in a faint, her prediction having come true. Lin caught her just as the lights flickered back on.

Ren turned to Naru and frowned. "That was no ghost."

"No," Naru agreed. "That figure was someone playing a joke. But something else did happen. The temperature is still freezing," he pointed out.

He was right, Ren realized dimly, shivering violently and watching his breath stream out. Funny, because he'd been thinking that it was actually very hot out before he got to the studio.

"And Mai's having a vision. So something _is_ happening here."

"So what do we_ do_?"

"Do? Tsuruga-san, you do the only thing we can do in this situation: we wait. And when she comes to, we ask her what she experienced."

…

When Mai woke, she was in the control booth. She sat up and a small sound of distress escaped her lips and echoed eerily in the room. Wincing, she put her hand to her head and looked around, wondering why she was the only one in the room. It hit her then that this wasn't the base room. It was a different room, older—it showed more wear and tear but had all the same equipment as their base room…another control room; it had to be. She jumped to the other side of the room at the lifeless corpses. Her breathing sounded strangely hollow as she watched them. One of them turned to her and mouthed something. Pity shone in her eyes as she moved closer.

"Did you two cause that figure in the base room?" she asked, her voice compassionate.

It nodded agreement.

"You shouldn't have done that," she scolded, shaking her finger at the dead man. "We saw right through it, you know." But still, whatever they'd done to sabotage S.P.R.'s investigation, they hadn't deserved _this._

His mouth moved again.

"Eh?" she asked. She didn't understand. He'd said something, but she just couldn't hear it.

The corpse mouthed something one final time before laying his head back down into eternal slumber.

She bowed her head and said a short pray over them, before standing up. She'd understand in time and that time would probably be soon. She glanced down at the bodies and began to make her way to the door.

…

"How can you be so calm?" Ren demanded, his blood boiling. How could he be so callous? He didn't understand this man! "She _fainted_."

"What good would hysteria do? It wouldn't help Mai. And she's fine. Isn't she?" he deferred to Lin.

Lin put two fingers on her wrist where the pulse point was. It beat beneath his fingers, a bit erratically but steady for all that. Relief welled up in him but he kept his face stoic. "She is. Her pulse is a bit thready, but strong. She'll probably wake up soon."

"I think you're a monster," Ren announced.

Naru shrugged. "I don't care what you think." His piercing blue eyes bore into Ren's own and the actor had to fight the urge to fidget. "At least I know who I am, Tsuruga-san."

Ren's mouth dropped open in utter surprise. Kyouko looked between them confused. What did that mean? Before she could say anything, another voice spoke from the doorway.

"Making more friends, Naru-bou?"

"You're late," he told them as the three filed into the base room.

They looked unremarkable to Kyouko. But immediately she pegged the woman as Matsuzaki-san. She'd have to talk to her when they weren't quite so busy. The man shrugged in response to Naru's admonish. "What can I say? Traffic sucked and you weren't with us to scare the crappy drivers away."

A tinkling chuckle and a collective amused snort earned a glacial look around from Naru. Satisfied that he'd successfully staunched any more jokes, he turned that glare back to the monk.

"So?" Takigawa asked, becoming all business.

…

She felt it before she reached the door: that intense wave of absolute malice and general ill-will. She gasped when frigid cold enveloped her. Mai whirled around and saw a malignant patch hovering. Were those eyes staring at her with hatred or was that her imagination? She felt the blood drain from her face. Those growing blades of ice weren't, though. And the ends grew sharper and more wicked with every breath she took until she was panting. Her eyes widened impossibly when she realized that they were pointed in her direction—no, right at her heart.

A thought pierced her mind, a harsh, urgent command.

_'Run!'_

Mai needed no encouragement. She turned tail and fled, feeling like she was running through quick sand. The ice knives flew at her, missing thankfully because… was it because she was a moving target? She highly doubted it. She was willing to bet it was the bracelet Koujo had given her; it was deflecting the blades from anything vital; her arms bore the proof that blades had missed. Whatever it was grew more and more incensed that she wasn't on the floor like the other two and began to throw a barrage at her. One hit her shoulder particularly hard before she reached the door and the feeling of quick sand disappeared as she flew out of the control room and slammed the door shut just as more of the ice daggers thumped against the door.

She slid down on the other side of the door, giving her body a brief respite. Wincing, she reached up to her shoulder and rubbed it, trying to relieve some of the throbbing. When her hand came away wet with blood, her eyes grew wide again and she scrambled away from the door just as another dagger tip broke free of the metal. Stumbling away to the other wall, she ran again before yet another dagger impaled the opposite wall.

…

_She's bleeding,_ one of his Shiki announced.

Lin was all ears. _What do you mean 'she's bleeding?' She's in a dream; it shouldn't be possible to hurt her._

_She's bleeding,_ his fifth insisted again. _Mai is bleeding._

Perplexed, Lin glanced at Mai while Naru and Tsuruga continued to square off. His nostrils flared and his eyes went flat. His Shiki were right: Mai was bleeding. That meant she'd been injured in her own vision.

"Lin-san?" Bou-san asked, noticing the Chinese man's abrupt change.

Guided by his Shiki's instructions of not there, a bit lower, to the left, no a bit more to the right, Lin probed at Mai's shoulder blade until he found the wound and his fingers came away red.

"I hate to interrupt your squabbling Naru," Lin began his voice flat and filled with barely restrained fury. There was no titter of laughter or chuckling at this statement, just the knowledge that the sorcerer was angry about something. "But might I suggest you do what you do best?"

Naru's eyes left Ren and focused on his assistant. "What is it?"

He held his fingers up for all to see, not needing to state the obvious.

Silence descended—heavy and stunned and grim. Kyouko's hands went to her mouth to cover up the silent 'o' of horror. Takigawa's eyes grew flinty as he gazed at the macabre decoration on Lin's fingers. He looked at Mai's bracelet which was glowing softly. Damn and double damn.

He dug his keys out of his pocket. "I'll take you wherever you need to go, Naru-bou."

Naru didn't move or even acknowledge what the monk had said, but they all knew he'd processed it anyhow. "Let's wait for Mai to wake up, first. In the meantime, Mogami-san, a first aid kit, if you please."

…

It was rather futile to hold her hand against the worst of the cut, but Mai deluded herself into thinking it helped staunch the bleeding. She trudged into another hallway and frowned. How the hell many hallways did this stupid set _have_? She looked around, noticing all the doors with stars on them. Some rooms had names: Watanabe Yuu, Takahiro Shuuta, Yamashita Chouko and so on. But there was something curious about the door with Takahiro Aoi on it. Beneath that name, had been another, from the looks of it. And that name had been scratched out—the only character she could make out was '—ka' and she wasn't certain that was what it was. Curious. Why hadn't the other name been scratched off, too? Mai wondered. She shook her head. For now it was incomprehensible. Mai was confident that it would be revealed soon. If she got out of this stupid hallway, that was. She wouldn't wake up until she saw what she was meant to see.

Slumping against the wall, she allowed herself a brief respite and she shivered violently as her shoulder throbbed. She bit her lip and waited for the pain to pass. When it did, she levered herself up and trudged along, finally navigating her way out. The color leeched out and inverted upon itself upon her advent from the hall.

"Quite a nasty creature we have here."

Mai jumped at the sudden comment and whirled, biting her lip against the pain. "Nar… no, Eugene," she corrected herself, shaking her head as if to admonish herself.

Gene frowned. It had been a very long time since she called him by his brother's name. His eyes turned to winter when he saw her holding her shoulder. She was injured; here in this dream he'd guided her into. If he weren't already dead he'd have to look forward to Lin's wrath. But that wasn't accurate—he'd started to guide her into a dream. Something had taken hold of her and shoved him away at the last possible second. "I'm sorry, Mai-chan. So sorry."

Mai stared at him. "What for?" she asked, bewildered. She followed his eyes as they roved down her shoulder as if he could see beyond her flesh and to the other side. "Oh. This isn't your fault. I was already here before you arrived."

"I guided you into this dream," he disagreed—and _that_ was partially true. "And what happens here reflects in the real world."

"Oh," she floundered. "But it still wasn't your fault."

Gene didn't answer. There was no time to dally. Instead, he pointed. Mai turned to see a new scene as color rushed into the inverted space. Four people. Well more, but they were in shadows. Four people had any sort of liveliness to them. One was tall, beefy, and old enough to have fathered the young lady he had his arm around. But it didn't look like there was anything but friendship or companionship between them. Old friends, Mai decided. Or… the child of old family friends. The other two were a bit older than the young lady at the beefy man's side. And they certainly didn't look happy to meet her. Oh, they were cordial enough and supportive enough, but underneath that veneer and gloss they were petty and mean—and they'd already decided that she didn't deserve whatever the director was giving her.

And she was being given the lead in a drama. It was a simplistic plot, boy-meets-girl, blah, blah. But those two—the main co-stars… Takahiro Shuuta and Watanabe Yuu thought this new talent shouldn't have the lead; she was a talent, after all, not a star. Not like them. But they were small time, Mai knew. Her eyes narrowed: Takahiro Shuuta was _still_ small time—nothing like Tsuruga Ren. What she was able to gather about the two stars was they were full of their own grandeur and self-importance. Their bullying began. Little things at first—things that a student might experience in bullying. Then it became more vicious—especially after the starlet, whose name she still hadn't caught, told the director. She'd expected him to keep it secret, but… the road to hell is paved with good intentions, Mai thought.

The bullying became more and more intense and Mai averted her gaze from the madness. Her head snapped up as the starlet, unable to stand it anymore, ended everything in her dressing room. The one with the name burnt out, Mai realized. The director and Yamashita Chouko, another actress found her. The director couldn't take it: daughter of his closest friends dead because of those two selfish actors, and because of his own ambitions. But the show had to go on, as they said of show business. The co-star became the leading lady and got the star's room. She died there, too, just after the filming finished. Police had no clue how it happened—it was a cold case now. Mai filed that away for later. Her forehead crinkled in confusion. That didn't explain why the entire studio was haunted—or by what or maybe whom.

What she had was more questions than answers. She turned to Gene who waited patiently.

"On the one hand, I'd say this is simple. On the other, it's really not."

"That's right."

"But I have to ask if it's _just_ the unnamed starlet, or is there more to it? _She_ died in her dressing room—I can tell because her name's been charred off. But I don't feel any _malice_ from her. If that director's still alive, it shouldn't be hard to track him down. Perhaps he'll have answers for us."

Gene smiled. "Perhaps so. Go on back, Mai. Get that wound taken care of, if Lin hasn't already done so."

Mai began to walk in the direction that Eugene indicated.

…

Long hair hovered over her when she came to. Her vision cleared and a beautiful face, handsome as sin, looked down at her, worry clouding up his visible eye.

"Koujo," she murmured, shifting a bit and gasping in pain.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice soothing. She heard the rage beneath it, however, and groped for his hand. Grasping it, he sat down on the couch next to her and continued, "Mogami-san's gone for a first aid kit." He stroked the back of her hand idly, brooding about how her injury had happened. "Now would be a good time for you to recount what you saw," Lin said gently. "It will take your mind off the pain."

Biting her lip, Mai began to recount her dream waking up in the control room. Her voice was flat when she told them that the two who played the joke were dead. She nodded grimly at the collective gasps and winced in pain.

"Dead from what?" Naru asked his gaze steady on hers.

"I'd call it an ice dagger, seeing as many of them chased me out of the control room." She gave him a wry smile. "Not before I was stabbed though," she said, grimacing.

_That answered that question,_ Naru decided. Whatever was here was active and didn't mind hurting the bystanders. Kyouko returned with the first aid kit and Koujo gently assisted Mai into a sitting position so Ayako could clean and bandage her wound. Grim, Naru turned to Ren and said, "Please fetch President Takarada. Yasuhara-san, please notify Detective Hirota." He turned back to Mai.

"After that, I saw Eugene. And that was when I saw the rest of what I needed to see. It was a basic drama—boy meets girl and fall in love blah, blah, blah, families don't agree, guy's family tries to set him up with other girl, so on. I've read the story in one form or another so many times," she said, aiming a grin at Lin. "But what Gene really wanted me to see was that the two main stars began to bully the starlet. She committed suicide before the filming was finished and Watanabe Yuu-san, one of the stars that partook in the bullying in the first place, took her place as the lead. But _she_ died right after filming finished."

"So of the multiple ghosts we have, we need to find out which one is the real problem," Naru summed up, his mind racing ahead and tallying up the reasons each spirit had to haunt the studio.

Mai nodded and winced as Ayako smoothed a bandage onto her shoulder, completely unaware of the look the priestess shared with the monk. "I think… no… I'm positive that the key lies with the director. And if he's still with LME Studios, then he shouldn't be too hard to track down, right?"

He didn't answer to that because he agreed with her—not that he'd admit it just yet. Instead, "Tell me why you and Tsuruga-san put that one camera in a different spot from where I marked."

Mai's brow furrowed as she thought how best to explain it. She didn't realize it, but her eyes went wide and glassy as what she'd almost witnessed clarified in her mind. "The starlet was brought in by the director," she murmured. "I know I told you that. The other two stars believed she was undeserving of the role she'd been given; I told you that, too. They started bullying her and she finally went to the director about it. There was a showdown of sorts in that spot."

"I see."

The tell-tale signs of feet indicated Yasuhara's return with Detective Hirota, along with Ren and a grim faced Lory Takarada. Naru turned to meet them. His first order of business would be to ask Detective Hirota for Watanabe Yuu's case file.

…

Hirota frowned ferociously as he surveyed the carnage. To be truthful, without the bodies and if he ignored the blood congealing on the floor, the room simply looked like a nasty temper tantrum had happened. He glanced back at Takarada who stood just outside. He looked pale, but angry. Angry was good, Hirota decided. He had no time or patience for whining.

"Is there anything you can tell me?" Takarada asked.

Hirota's frown deepened. "That's my line, Takarada-san. And I want to know what Taniyama-san can tell us, actually."

"Taniyama-kun?" he asked incredulously.

"Taniyama-san," he confirmed. "Detective Genda, what are you doing here?" he asked, when the other detective slipped under the crime scene tape.

Genda shrugged. "I thought I could help. Have you found anything yet?"

"No," Hirota said, shaking his head. "And I doubt I will."

"One can hope," the other detective murmured.

"Takarada-san, why not get rid of this control booth? It's older, out-dated; you don't use it any longer, so why keep it?" Hirota asked.

"This particular studio was slated for renovations next year. We were going to turn this room into a storage room, or perhaps more dressing rooms. Though I doubt that will happen anytime soon," he muttered.

"It may not," Naru said. "Not with this set of yours as haunted as it is."

"Shibuya-san." Lory's gaze cut to Ren and Kyouko who stood away, watching. Also in proximity was the young man's assistant and other employee—Taniyama. "Taniyama-kun, Lin-kun. Are my stars proving to be good students?" he queried.

Naru didn't answer. "Tell me about the purchase of this particular studio. It hardly seems worth your while to own it."

Lory shrugged. "The company I bought it from was about to go under. They took what I gave them, closed up shop, and that was that. I kept the staff attached to the studio and it blossomed again."

"A couple of years ago, a starlet committed suicide here." This coming from Mai and all attention focused on her. "What was her name?"

Lory's brow crinkled. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know?"

"I haven't a clue. The former owners never mentioned anything like that to me."

"They wouldn't know," Mai told him. "It happened when you'd taken possession of this studio. Surely despite the grief over your daughter-in-law, you were told that a starlet and another star died here?"

Three years ago. It was all centering on that one time. Lory exhaled and thought back to those awful weeks. His eyes narrowed in thought. He recalled vaguely one of his former employees telling him that two of his stars were dead. He recalled, however, handing the whole affair to one of his assistants… it wasn't Sawara-kun, but it was vaguely possible that Sawara knew who he'd given it to.

"I recall hearing about it. I'm sure I've beaten a dead horse by now telling you all what happened three years ago. I didn't deal with it personally—I gave it to one of my assistants."

"Please find out who you gave it to, Takarada-san. It's very important," Mai said. And if you could find the name of the director at that time, as well?"

"I shall."

"All right—enough," Ayako said, joining the group and clapping her hand on Mai's uninjured shoulder before the younger lady could say another word. Mai flinched and let out a small yelp. "You're going to get checked out."

"Eh?" Mai asked, turning to her.

"You're bleeding again. You need stitches and I don't have any supplies with me. You didn't see your back, but I did and it's not pretty. Let's go. An associate of my mother's has her practice not too far from here. It shouldn't take very long an hour or two, tops."

"Go," Lin said, giving her a little nudge. "Better to be safe than sorry; you've been feeling a bit off lately, haven't you?"

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" Mai groused.

He smiled faintly. "Go," he said again. "We'll still be here when you return."

…

"Well, I stitched up her back—it looks much worse than it actually is; she has seven stitches in her and I won't ask how she got that wound in the first place. I'd rather not know, I think. You can take them out in two, three weeks, depending. Her blood work came back fine, too except for one thing—she has elevated levels of hCG in her system. Aya-chan, does your friend know she's pregnant?" Hayesgawa Mayura asked, pushing her glasses up her nose and focusing on her long-time friend's daughter. From the flush on Ayako's cheekbones, Mayura assumed that no one knew—not even the mother-to-be.

Mayura's words sunk in. _Pregnant,_ she thought. Mai was pregnant and she was beyond sure that Lin was the father. "Pregnant?" Ayako sputtered. "As in, nine months expecting a new born?"

"Umm… yes, that is the rough definition." She pushed her glasses up and readjusted them, watching Ayako's face as it shifted colors. "That young lady doesn't know. You didn't know, either."

"I. Will. Kill. Him!" she snarled, emphasizing each word with exaggerated slowness.

Mayura sighed, rose, and collected a syringe and a sedative, before reclaiming her seat. "I wouldn't recommend it—murder is still murder. Get a hold of yourself, Matsuzaki Ayako," she ordered sharply. "I will give you a sedative and call a cab for the young lady if you don't," she threatened. Linking her fingers she peered at the priestess and asked, "Do you believe that your friend was forced?"

"What?" Ayako asked shocked. She couldn't imagine Lin, someone of impeccable control _ever_ forcing someone to do something they didn't want to. "Oh, no—no of course not. But a year ago…I warned him!" she sputtered.

Mayura sighed. Ayako and her young man needed to have a child, already. "You don't have any say, Aya-chan." She smiled. "You're a good friend. You truly are. But in this case, I'd advise that you back off and not give her a hard time. She's free to make her own choices. I'll let you do the honors of telling her—unless, of course, you feel that you can't handle it."

"No, no I can handle it."

"Good. Don't upset her. And give her these," the doctor said, pulling out some basic vitamins and minerals from her medical cabinet. "You know what to tell her she can't have or can have, so on and so forth."

Gulping, Ayako reached forward and took the prenatal vitamins—Mai, pregnant with Lin's child. It scared her boneless. And wasn't that stupid, she thought. If she was scared, Mai would be even worse. What right did she have to be scared? _She_ wasn't the one who was pregnant with the sorcerer's child. Standing, she bowed and hurried into the exam room to break the news to Mai. She watched Mai's face go blank, cloud with shock, and then finally, become radiant.

Mai was on cloud nine on the way back. She couldn't wait to tell Koujo! And she could admit that she was a bit apprehensive. She had no idea how he would react. It didn't matter, she decided. No matter what happened, she was going to have a baby. Would it be a girl or a boy? There was a fifty-fifty chance either way, she knew, stroking her still-flat stomach.

As Ayako drove back to the studio, she steamed. She really wanted to kill one Lin Koujo for this—but—seeing how ecstatic Mai was, and how jubilant she'd become when she learned, Ayako decided to be happy for the brunette instead. They got back just as a Skype meeting between New York and Japanese Detectives took place. She shot Lin a fulminating glare that she was sure puzzled the sorcerer, but otherwise, she kept to herself.

Lin shrugged Matsuzaki's mood off. No doubt she blamed him for Mai's injury. He had work to do. He would ask Mai later, for now… he installed the Skype program and peered at the instructions that Commissioner Reagan had texted him. The power flickered and Lin compressed his lips into a fine line, all thoughts of relationships and whatnot flying out the window. Whatever was here was playing with the power. Wonderful.

…

"Ms. Mori, Lieutenant Chamberlin, detectives Genda, Hirota," Frank greeted from Nikki's computer screen.

Lee peered curiously at the blank spaces where other detectives should have been. "Are we the first to arrive for this meeting, or are we the only ones in attendance?" _And you're obviously at your home…_

Removing his glasses and setting the kitchen table, Frank said, "Lieutenant Caine sent word that he and his people are working on a more pressing case. Sergeant Barries is also working on something new and couldn't be spared. The others that you two originally talked to are also unable to make our meeting." He paused. "It's just us, I'm afraid."

"That's better than nothing," Madoka said. "Especially since we're on site at an investigation ourselves. I'm hoping the power holds, but we've had hiccups, here and there." The lights flickered as if to prove her point and she glared upwards, inwardly cursing whatever was here for its unprecedented show of humor.

"And it appears that we're bothering you at home, Commissioner."

"Not at all," Frank responded. "It simply ended up this way, time wise."

"If you say so, Commissioner," Lee replied, still not convinced.

"Detective Reagan, will your partner be joining us?" Madoka asked.

Danny shook his head. "I'll brief Jack when we're done."

"Are they there? Can I see them?" a young, excited voice asked and Madoka looked surprised. But if Madoka looked surprised then Frank and his son looked sheepish and somewhat embarrassed.

"No, Nikki, this isn't a social gathering. Go back to Linda and your mom," Danny ordered.

"Why?" came the defiant question. "It's my computer. I have the right to see who you all are talking to. Besides, we had a deal."

"Commissioner?" Madoka queried.

"My granddaughter, Nikki. She'd like to meet you all—if possible," he added.

It seemed to Madoka that he was giving her an out and was desperately hoping she'd take it. She decided not to give him the satisfaction.

"Everyone!" she called. "There's a guest who'd like to meet you all! Naru! Lin-san, Mai-chan, everyone, please return to the base room."

Frank frowned. He was starting to regret using Nikki's laptop for this skype session. He resolved to install the program himself on his own laptop as soon as this session was over.

"Hey, Nicks," Lee said casually.

Nikki sniffed and turned away from the nickname and Lee grinned. Danny decided to file that one away for later.

Leaning a bit to the left, Madoka peered at the short-haired young woman and smiled as the rest of the team filed in, including their two interns.

"Everyone, this is Commissioner Reagan of New York City, his son, Detective Daniel Reagan, and Nikki, his granddaughter. Ms. Reagan, those two in the back are two of our interns, Mogami Kyouko-san and Tsuruga Ren-san. Next to him are Matsuzaki Ayako-san and Takigawa Housho-san."

"How's it goin'?" Bou-san asked, aiming a rakish smile at her; Ayako glared at him just before she smacked him.

"Ow! The hell was that for?"

"Flirting with a kid! How can you be so shameless?"

Smiling, Madoka shifted the computer screen away from the fighting couple. She never would have thought that Ayako was the jealous type. "Don't worry about it," she told Nikki. "It's common-placed."

"Wow—they need a room."

"Nikki!"

"What? Uncle Danny, you were thinking the same thing; I know you were." She looked at the two interns standing bewildered at the exchange. "But if those two are interns… when will they be hired?"

"They won't be," Naru said, glaring at Madoka, annoyed that she'd called them from recording data and getting an account from Mai. "They're not interns, period." He gave the computer screen and the people filling it a disinterested glance. "And I don't have time for this."

"Naru," Madoka said sweetly, switching back to Japanese, and snagging the young man's sleeve, prohibiting his exit, "we've discussed this before. Many times. Customer relations and all that." She grabbed his shoulders and turned him forcibly around back to the computer screen and smiled widely- a smile that scared the young ghost hunter, even if he didn't show it. "Imagine if you ever have to go back to America; you usually land in New York. Better to be on good terms with the Police Commissioner from New York than bad, wouldn't you say?" Turning back to the Commissioner she said in English, "You'll have to excuse him. He's not a bad child, just ill-mannered."

"Madoka!"

She merely smiled.

Naru compressed his lips into a thin line, well aware that behind him, Lin was all but shaking with silent laughter, while Mai and Chiaki simply shared a knowing look. Finally, Naru heaved an explosive sigh and plastered a smile on his face; it wasn't a particularly nice smile—rather scary and far too polite, truth be told; it made Danny want to put his hand on his gun just in case, but his gun wasn't on his person. "Commissioner Reagan—it's good to see you again. Detective Reagan, Ms. Reagan."

He _was_ cute, Nikki decided. But his smile seemed out of place and on his face and for some reason scared her.

"Naru!" Chiaki scolded. He shot her a cold glare before turning and stalking away. Shaking her head at her boyfriend she smiled at Nikki. "Please forgive him. He means no harm."

"Chiaki!" he said exasperated, whirling back to her.

She ignored him. "I'm Chiaki Kasai, Naru's girlfriend."

He sighed and resumed ignoring them.

"You're his girlfriend?" Nikki asked, disappointed. That meant he wasn't single after all.

"I am," Chiaki replied with an understanding smile. "Umm… the two who were fighting you've met. You've met Detectives Genda and Hirota. The guy in the glasses is another investigator, Yasuhara Osamu-san. Don't bet with him; you'll just be swindled." Chiaki steadfastly ignored his injured protest. "That's _his_ girlfriend, Takahashi Yuko-san, and believe me when I say she's got the patience of a saint," she said, pointing to the petite brunette. "Let's see… the blonde haired man is John, he's an exorcist."

"As in the movie?" Nikki asked.

"Ah… well…" John commented, giving her a small, albeit strained smile. "The principle, I suppose."

"Are you from England, too?"

"Australia, actually."

"What brought you to Japan?"

"Opportunity, I suppose," John answered vaguely.

"Aren't you a bit _young_ to be an exorcist?" Frank asked.

"Am I? Maybe I'm a prodigy, just like Shibuya-san."

Frank wasn't convinced, but the young man wasn't offering up any more information. He let it go. Whatever he really was, it was clear that Shibuya and his team trusted him.

Chiaki resumed introductions. "That's Hara, Masako-san. You might have seen her on T.V.?" she asked.

Nikki shook her head mutely and Masako turned away, curiously relieved that these people in New York didn't know who she was.

"Who're the last two?" Nikki asked.

"Ah…"

"Lin," he said. "Lin Koujo. It's a pleasure to meet you all," he answered.

"And I'm Taniyama Mai," the other brunette said, smiling at all of them.

"_You're_ Mai?" Danny asked. She was hardly remarkable, but he noticed the way they all crowded around her protectively, especially Lin. She was too old to be his daughter and the detective highly doubted that they were related. Perhaps they were involved, he mused. But… that age difference.

Mai looked around self-consciously but smiled again, a bit strained, but a grin. "Last time I checked."

"Did your boss happen to relay what I asked him to?"

"I'm afraid he didn't," she said. "We were a bit busy at the time with a rather difficult case and we haven't slowed down, either."

"You don't let that rat bastard win, girl." He pointed at her. "You hear me? Because me and my family, when this is over, we're coming to Japan and I want to shake your hand personally. So you make damn sure that bastard doesn't win."

Solemnly, she nodded. "You have my word. And you'll have to tell me when you travel. I can recommend hotels that won't charge tourists prices and I'll give you directions to our office from there."

"Now that introductions are over, perhaps we can return to business?" Genda asked. He aimed a frown Madoka's way, conveying his displeasure at time being lost.

"Absolutely. Nikki—say goodbye," Frank ordered.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

"You do."

Sulking a bit, she heaved an explosive sigh. "Bye all. Sure sucks to be me."

"Believe me, you don't want in on this conversation, Nikki-san," Lin said seriously.

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

"Nikki."

"I'm going, I'm going. Bye!" With that, she departed.

"Sorry about that," Frank said.

"Not a problem," Genda said, thinking that maybe his kids would have been the same way. It occurred to him that he needed to see them. "Let me start this meeting by saying this: we have a recorded conversation between McLaughlin and his secretary Smith about Annabelle and her possessing Taniyama-san. I'm more than happy to send you a copy."

Silence descended both parties. To her credit, Danny thought, Mai didn't gasp or faint or any of the above. She did turn white and grip Lin's arm. What interested him was that the man in question discreetly captured her hand and wove their fingers together, giving a quick squeeze.

"Detective Genda, why didn't you mention this earlier?" Frank asked.

"I don't know," Genda replied honestly. "Mainly because I didn't know what legal hoops you'd have to jump through to get it and/or use it."

"We'll let Erin deal with the legal issues. But you're sure that they're talking about Taniyama-san on that tape?"

"Oh, yes. Very sure. She's mentioned by name several times," Hirota said, having been present at the time.

"Well on that note, I would love a copy of it. They're speaking English, right?" Danny asked. "I guess it is my birthday, after all," he said, smiling when Genda nodded. "That's the best news. This news isn't as good, but… I find it extremely interesting that one Jeffrey Smith called me at work and left a message stating that he wanted to talk."

"Talk about what?" Yasuhara asked, pushing his glass back into place.

"My guess?" Danny commented. "His boss. The things he's been doing. The dead girls. Take your pick."

"I'd say all of the above," Madoka responded.

"Speaking of Jeffrey Smith and Samuel McLaughlin, Madoka, do you have anything else for us?" Naru asked, turning to his associate.

"Well, we have a name: Benjamin Baker. I've been reading what Cassandra Baker gave me and it's interesting stuff. She used to call him 'Laughs' because his middle name was Isaac—well, Yitzchak, the Hebrew rather than the Anglicized." She hesitated before continuing. "This is pure conjecture on my part, but I'm beginning to think that with a name like that… they weren't allowed to marry because of different faiths—along with a sizeable difference in status. One thing was absolutely clear to me: Benjamin never forgot Annabelle and loved her until the day he died, despite marrying someone else." Actually, she still had the bruises and they were still fresh and ugly, despite the week that she'd been in Japan. Until this was over, and Annabelle was at rest, she was sure they weren't going to fade.

"_Romeo and Juliette,_ in a way," Frank commented.

"I'll thank you not to mention that bard or his _stories_ to me," a southern voice filtered out.

The silence was so loud that it seemed to hurt as all eyes turned to Mai, who had a vacant look in her brown eyes and a terrifying smile on her face. _The smile of a dead person who wasn't all together sane,_ Danny thought, shivering; he glanced at his father's face: it was set like stone, hard, harsh, and unyielding. Lin cursed and muttered a sharp word, halting Annabelle from moving anywhere.

She gave him a droll look. "I wasn't going to go anywhere or dance."

"All the same," Lin responded. "How did you get out—so to speak?"

Annabelle lifted Mai's arm to show the tarnish gathering on the bracelet. "You should have used gold, sorcerer," she told him.

"You're right," he admitted. "I should have. I'll have to do that."

"That little guardian you gave her is terrifying. It's keeping us running. But now I guess it's having to cool its heels-? Is that the right expression?" the ghost drawled.

It was baffling to see a something superimposed over Mai's body: a tall, statuesque woman in an old-fashioned dress from the nineteenth century. Frank and Danny both had to blink and rub their eyes to make sure they weren't imagining it. But no, they weren't.

"What do you want?" Naru asked, not answering her.

"You've uncovered his name," she murmured, turning her gaze to Madoka. "You've actually figured out his name. Oh, this girl was right. I never did forget his name. I died with it upon my lips when I shot myself. But I wanted _them_ to discover it. And then call him."

_Them,_ Danny thought. _Who exactly comprised of the plural 'them?'_

"Like Theresa—the maid from your house—promised? She strung you along, that one. She wasn't a medium by any means, was she? But you—" Madoka broke off and shook her head. "You were just desperate enough to believe her and she knew that. It was so easy for her. That's why you killed her, after you killed your mother, isn't it? Oh, that's right: it was your mother who told you that Benjamin died in the battle of Peach Tree Creek, when in fact he was only wounded. Am I wrong, Annabelle-san?"

Annabelle bowed her head, acquiescing to Madoka's deduction. A twinge surfaced in her eyes. "She's fighting me. I give it another few seconds before she forces me back. You found yourself a gem, sorcerer—an exquisite diamond in the rough."

"I know that, Annabelle-san."

"Annabelle-san, give us until after this case," Naru told her.

Annabelle turned to him. "Do you promise me?"

That insane light was back in her eyes.

Naru stayed silent.

"I'll hold you to that, young man." Curtseying to all including the ones on the other side of the world, Annabelle faded from Mai's eyes and the charm that held her imprisoned disappeared with her. Mai collapsed in Lin's arms as she came to, but tore herself away and ran out. With another glare, Ayako went after her and Lin grimaced. He knew Mai had been feeling off, but he had no clue what was wrong with her. With nothing else to do, he turned back to the New Yorkers on screen.

"Our apologies, Detectives, Commissioner, Mogami-san, Tsuruga-san. _That_ was Annabelle- your culprit," he told Danny.

"Does that happen often?" Danny asked. "Ah... her being... you know..." he trailed off gesturing to what had just happened.

"Possessed?" Lin asked.

"Yeah, that."

"It's the second time in about five years that she's been possessed," he told them.

"Out of morbid curiosity, what was the first time?" Frank asked, still reeling from what he'd seen, heard, and witnessed. Whatever that had been, she'd called that man Lin a sorcerer. Did that mean he was like the stage magicians? He certainly didn't look like one. Or… he shuddered to think it, did he worship dark gods that society had condemned. _Rubbish,_ he thought, looking at Naru. _I don't see a young man like him condoning that in an employee!_

"The first time was at a church. A young boy died there waiting for a father that never showed. Kenji-kun wasn't harmful, but he certainly did need to be found."

"And… he possessed Ms. Taniyama?"

"He did. And much to my chagrin, I apparently looked enough like Kenji-kun's father that he latched onto me," Lin said, still faintly embarrassed by the events.

That had to be awkward, Danny decided.

"It _was_ awkward," Lin confirmed. "I could have easily gotten Mai killed with that case. I've never been able to properly atone for it, either." He looked at Mai sadly as she returned to the base.

And if they couldn't exactly deliver on that oblique promise Naru had given, Lin wondered, watching Mai from the corner of his eye. What would happen to her? Would she become another victim of Annabelle's? He'd promised himself that he wouldn't let it happen, but could he keep that promise? Would one last dance actually satisfy her or would she still search for victims? _Actually, her last victim should be Samuel McLaughlin,_ he thought. The idea of the last victim being the greedy man who used her for gain had taken root. How to suggest it, though?

"Well, this has been quite the…umm… freak show, I guess," Danny said. He coughed, clearing his throat and gestured again. "When Mr. Smith makes contact again, I will get in touch with you and let you know what he wanted. Likewise, detectives, please send us a copy of that conversation. Let's sew that rat bastard up and get rid of his ghost."

Naru inclined his head just as the power went out and the rest of the studio save the base room went frozen.

"We need to find the director," Mai announced and Naru agreed. The director knew something—they were sure of it.

…

_Tuesday morning, ten a.m._

They'd spent the night in the base room (against better judgment and because it was the only room not frozen over) because they didn't dare leave unless they'd had to. Taking a huge risk, Lin, Bou-san, Lee, and John ventured out for some basic supplies: flashlights, candles and matches, blankets, a single burner stove with fuel and rations of food and water. They'd returned safely, much to Mai's relief. It had been an especially long night, or so it had felt. Though the ice hadn't invaded the control room, the cold had. Sometime during the night, the destruction began: icicles forming, breaking, and flying everywhere; sleeting-rain; it was like being somewhere in the Arctic, instead of Japan. It was eerie in the base room with all the destruction outside and absolute darkness on the inside. Knowing she'd be useless if she didn't get at least a couple of hours of shut-eye, fell into an uneasy slumber against Lin, glad for the sorcerer's warmth.

As morning broke through, the tempest stopped and receded; the investigators wondered what had caused such a storm in the first place. Grim-faced, they decided that it was time to find out come the morning. When dawn came, they ventured out, finding the damage to be severe in terms of water. _Everything_ was soaked and water-logged. The cameras were toast; Naru's face was stony as he inspected the equipment. Lory Takarada inspected the damage, his face a mask of fury. Lin had a feeling that when he'd contracted Shibuya Psychic Research to rat out what was haunting his set and teach his two employees, he'd expected maybe some noise, maybe some moaning and groaning, but not _this._ Naru had quickly silenced any questions of how-could-they-let-this-happen, and so forth and ordered, actually ordered, the president to stand-by. He'd be needed later on. Without further ado, he'd ordered Lin and Mai to go find the director and get some answers—bring him back to the studio, if necessary.

It was fortunate that the director was on a set about seven miles away from LME studios. She and Lin stood in the studio waiting for Katagiri Akihiko-san to finish his conversation with whomever he was talking to. She shifted her weight to her left foot, hoping it wouldn't be too long before he finished. Her back was itching horribly and worse, it _hurt_. The local anesthetic she'd been given had long since worn off and as a disadvantage of being pregnant; she couldn't take anything stronger than acetaminophen as a pain reliever—it wasn't exactly, helping, either. On the way over, he'd asked her about Ayako's attitude towards him and she'd been deliberately vague, lied, even. It hurt to do so and she knew that he knew she'd lied, but she didn't want to distract him from _anything_. Not until the case at Setsuda Prep School was done, if she could help it.

She shifted back to her right foot and rolled her shoulder forward, trying to scratch the incessant itch and failing miserably. To distract herself from her back, she studied the director. His face had been blacked out in her dream, but it was him, all right. He was rotund, where as he hadn't been in her vision, the same mouth—or would be if he smiled—the same eyes, it was him, from her dream. He was temperamental she saw, and that jived with what she'd witnessed within her dream. His eyes were also harder, harsher, with a painful sadness in them. Finishing one conversation, he turned to the camera crew and began dictating orders of where he wanted the cameras for the next couple of scenes. She repositioned herself again, glancing at her boyfriend who stood beside her in polar opposition to her fidgeting. His stillness unnerved her, but then, he'd always been ever calm.

Finally, finally, the director finished his delineation of orders and called out a break before turning to where Mai and Lin stood, his shoulders stooping in exhaustion for just a moment. Squaring his shoulders, he approached the investigators and bowed shortly.

_Missing, missing, something's missing,_ a sing-song voice whispered in her mind. In that one instant, Mai knew, _knew_, that he knew he was the cause of what was haunting the studio. Whether or not he knew remained to be seen.

"Katagiri Akihiko," the man said abruptly. "Can we make this fast? I don't want to give them too much time or they'll be useless for the rest of the day."

"Of course," Lin said. "We'd like to know what happened to the starlet who died in Studio E-dash-H. And her name," he added meaningfully.

Katagiri shook his head. "I haven't been back to that studio in three years and I don't intend to go back there, either. I'm afraid I can't help you so I'm going to ask you to leave. Now." He turned back to his crew. "All right! Break time's over!" he called.

With nothing left to do, they left the set. As they walked out, they heard snatches of conversation from the workers and at one point Lin stopped and asked them a question.

"Excuse me, but what do you mean, at least today he's not drunk? Does he come to the set drunk very often?" _Did he get drunk last night?_ Lin wondered. If so, maybe, maybe it could explain the freak storm that happened _inside_ the studio. Mai was certain that Katagiri-san was responsible, somehow.

The two men who'd been talking to each other exchanged furtive glances at each other, before glancing at the director. One man excused himself hastily when the director shouted a name the other stayed and regarded them steadily. The man said, "When his friend's daughter died—"

"Yutaka-san, right?" Mai asked quietly.

The man nodded. "Yutaka Eri. When she died, he started… drinking. A lot." He looked over at the director and found that he wasn't paying attention, so he turned back to the two strangers. "There were times when the upper managers had to come down to the sets to take care of it."

"Did the President ever step in?" he asked, knowing the answer, but asking anyways.

"He couldn't. No one could get close enough to talk to him, either, not with his daughter-in-law's death."

"Before the death of his son's wife, was the President ever… on top of things?"

"Oh, yeah. Bet your bottom dollar that if the President had been on his game, Watanabe Yuu and Takahiro Shuuta would've been fired. Competition is encouraged, you see, because that's the acting-world, but bullying over stupid shit like Yutaka getting the leading role is forbidden by his rules. _Especially_ when it leads to a person committing suicide."

"But Watanabe-shi also died and right after they finished filming. What happened to her?"

The man shook his head. "No clue. One day, she was just found dead."

"Autopsy—anything?"

He shrugged. "Don't know—don't care. The acting world is better off without that bland-bitch."

"Why do you say that—bland-bitch?" Mai asked curious.

He aimed a humorless smile at her and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and blowing out a stream of smoke away from her and Lin. "In _her_ world, Watanabe Yuu was a successful and much-sought after actress. In the real world? Yuu sucked as an actress. She never could remember her lines to save her life. And what little information she was actually able to retain in her vapid little mind made her a secret laughing-stalk. I don't know how much more plain I can make it. She was a shitty, small-time, actress that certainly wasn't worth the effort someone went through to off her—_if_ she was indeed murdered. Like I said, I don't know and I don't care."

"But she landed the part in the drama where she had a sizeable appearance…" Mai trailed off.

"Ah yes, that. This is hearsay, but…" He trailed off and took another puff, regarding her thoughtfully. "You want to know what else Yuu was good at? Actually, exceptional at and perhaps she should have made a career out of _that_ instead of trying to act—she was exceptionally good at sucking off."

Mai choked, her face turning pink.

"Now you're getting it," he approved, gesturing with the cigarette. "Rumor has it—popular rumor and I have no reason to believe it wrong—that at the time the drama was slated to be filmed, she was busy, ahem, sucking off a few of the producers to ensure a part for herself." He smiled again and finished his cigarette, crushing it out. He sighed. "That's about the jist of it—what I can tell you, at least."

"Thank you…" Lin trailed off, waiting for him to tell them his name.

The man smiled and extended a friendly hand. "Kijima," he said.

"Thank you, Kijima-san."

"Hope what I told you helps," he said. "Come by anytime," he told Mai, winking roguishly at her. He took the opportunity to bend down and whisper something into Mai's ear. Whatever he'd said made her blush scarlet to the tips of her ears.

"Kijima-kun!" the director called. "You're up next!"

"Yes, yes," he said, winking at her and leaving.

As they walked back to the car, Lin asked, "What did he say to you?"

Mai blushed again. "Ah… umm… he said… he'd love to…" she trailed off, still stammering. Lin waited patiently, his eyes on the car. "He'd love to… eat me up!" she finished in a rush and covering her mouth soon after saying it.

"Ah," he replied, his pace unchanging.

Mai frowned. "That's it?" she asked. "That's all you're going to say?" she asked, when they'd reached the car.

Turning, he grabbed her, spun her, and with a gentleness that surprised her, pressed her back to the car, and sealed his lips to hers. Dazed, exhilarated, and unprepared for the onslaught of his kiss, her hands lifted and fell weakly to his chest and she gripped his jacket—because all she could do was… well… enjoy all the wonderful sensations of his mouth stroking hers and doing deliciously naughty things. She was grateful for his support—without it she'd have slid boneless to the asphalt. His hands shifted and suddenly, she was more firmly pressed against the car and her legs had been guided to sit around his hips. She gasped as he pressed himself firmly against her, snaking his tongue into her mouth and deepening their kiss. That was when fire began to build in her stomach and caused her to moan deep in her throat—more, she wanted more. The clothing gone and just him and her with nothing in between; she didn't _care_ that they were in view of people. All she knew was she _wanted_ him, _now_. And from what she could feel against her body, he felt the same.

He brought the heated exchange to end and she groaned in frustration.

"Puppies like him don't bother me," he told her, helping her into the car.

Mai resolved to jump him the moment she could get him alone. She heard the baby purr in her mind its approval and Mai frowned. _You're barely old enough to be considered a fetus!_

It didn't seem to care. Grumbling, she climbed into the car and lamented that the baby was all its father all ready.

…

"It's definitely the director," she stated, once they were back. "I think that he somehow…" Mai scrunched her brow trying to explain. "Somehow… he _split_ himself. Part of his soul, that angry part, is here, in this studio. The other part is with his body."

Naru stared at her, his face expressionless. "Lin," he said. "Is that possible?"

"Have we ever encountered it before you mean? In fiction, we have. But I suppose there's no reason why it _couldn't_ be possible. Extreme emotions can produce extreme effects."

"What if that's why he won't come back here?" Yuko asked suddenly, startling everyone.

Naru turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"He hasn't been back here since she died, right?" she asked Lin. "What if that's because he knows what's really going on and that it's his fault?"

"That makes sense," Yasuhara said.

"It does," Lin agreed. "Which means that the director is the only one who can set things to right."

"And the only person who can get the director here, is President Takarada."

…

Lory Takarada sat in one of his plush limos and drummed his fingers against the armrest, brooding. He couldn't believe he was going along with this. He really couldn't. When he'd hired Shibuya-san to get rid of the ghost, he'd thought (incorrectly) that there'd be an exorcism and boom, bing, bada-bing!—everything back to normal. He was beginning to realize after a few hours of being in Shibuya-san's presence that 'normal' was a euphemism for something that didn't exist. Sighing, he opened the car door and exited the stately vehicle, striding over to the studio that Katagiri-kun was in.

All activity stopped the moment he stepped in.

"President!" Katagiri cried, rushing over to him as fast as his girth would allow.

"Katagiri-kun. I'm very sorry, but I'm dismissing your crew for today and I need you to return to headquarters with me."

"Is everything all right?"

_'Just get him here to this studio,' Naru said. 'You don't need to do anything else because we'll take care of the rest.'_

"Well, we need to talk about that, Katagiri-kun. The rest of you are dismissed," he called, putting an arm around the other man's shoulders and beginning to lead him out of the studio and to the limousine.

"President," he began when they pulled up at the studio where S.P.R. was currently waiting, "why did you bring me back here? I haven't been here for two years and I didn't have any intention of returning, either. This is where _she_ died," he hissed.

"I know that, Katagiri-kun. And if I hadn't been so consumed by my daughter-in-law's death, I'd have seen that you got help for you grief."

"I don't need help!" he protested as Lory hauled him out of the car and over to the studio doors. He dug his heels in and looked at the other man mutinously. "I simply need to work and forget about it."

"No, Katagiri-san," Naru said, meeting them just inside. "Work isn't going to help you—not completely. You left a piece of yourself here, when you discovered Yutaka-san."

"Don't you dare say her name!" he raged, raising a fist.

Lory reached out and pushed his hand down. "That's enough," he said firmly.

"Why don't you tell us—in your own words—what happened," Naru suggested, leading the two men away from the doors. "Tell us the entire story from the beginning."

"That child… I remember when she was born," he began. "I was her godfather, you know. Her father and I were best friends, all the way from daycare up through college graduation. Eri-chan getting into acting… that was my idea. I paid for lessons, the whole nine yards. This role was supposed to be her debut, especially, I thought, if Tsuruga-san takes the role of the main male lead and acts seriously with Eri. But Tsuruga-san refused the role."

"I was working on other projects at the time, Katagiri-san," Ren said. "I had no room in my schedule to fit that drama in."

Katagiri nodded. "I know that. Your manager told me as much."

"Also I didn't like the plot."

"He told me that, too."

"So you know pretty much the rest. Takahiro Shuuta and Watanabe Yuu were the new members since I couldn't get who I wanted. You know that they started to bully Eri-chan and I took matters into my own hands, making it that much worse. Eri committed suicide, Yuu took her place and filming finished. The reviews were horrible when Yuu took over, by the way. But… I was just so damned _angry_ with those two for what they did to Eri. And all over something that wasn't worth really anything. It's not like the drama won any awards—not like Dark Moon. So Eri was dead for no reason. I…just… couldn't take it. I poisoned Yuu and then paid the person who did the autopsy to state natural causes." As he spoke, a dark shape resembling him coalesced around him.

"And you somehow split your soul," Naru prompted. "That part of you, all that rage, is what haunts this set to this day."

"And?"

"And we need to change that. You need to reclaim that part of yourself or you'll only continue to suffer," Lin told him. He didn't like that his pent up rage had appeared so easily and looked like it was about to start a tantrum. Lin was sure that if they weren't able to keep the man calm… more damage would be done.

"Eri's dead. My goddaughter is dead. My friendship with her father, destroyed. How much worse can it be?"

During the man's tale, the two mediums had felt a sad presence listening in. They glanced at each other, wondering if Eri-and herself listening in. Another second went by and they were sure that was her and that she desperately wanted him to listen.

"Why don't you ask her?" Masako asked softly.

"She's here?" he asked.

"She never left," Mai told him. "She's been here, waiting to talk to you all this time. She tried, but you wouldn't listen."

"Why don't you try and listen now," Masako suggested, nodding to the coalescing shape that was slowly becoming a young woman.

"Eri?" he whispered, awestruck. "Eri, is that really you?" He stepped forward and then another step and another until he was standing in front of the ghostly lady.

They couldn't hear what Eri told him—after all, it was for his ears only, but whatever she said, did the trick. That piece that Katagiri had left behind slowly filtered back into the man and gave Mai the sense that he was complete at last. Perhaps he'd stop his drinking, too. The conversation—one sided—finished and it seemed like she'd imparted what she needed, so she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the man's cheek before slowly, slowly, fading away. Mai and Masako watched her go, knowing that would be the last time that they'd ever see the enraged spirit that Katagiri had left behind and Yutaka Eri. They glanced around surreptitiously, looking for Yuu.

"She's gone, too," Masako said.

Mai nodded. "Watanabe Yuu has also moved on. It's a good thing we got to this case when we did, Katagiri-san. You'd have caused a death at some point and the collection would have begun."

"And… I think you need a well-deserved vacation," Takarada said, stepping forward and beginning to lead the man out of the studio. _And some counseling. A lot of counseling, actually._ Ren and Kyouko followed quickly.

"Lin, can you summon Benjamin Baker now?" Naru asked once Takarada, Kyouko, Ren and Katagiri were out of the way.

"Let's try it," he replied. Bringing out a table, he hastily set up some supplies—candles, one white and one black. Taking a piece paper from one of the notepads, he hurriedly scribbled down the information that Madoka had given him about Benjamin Baker. Setting it down, he took a seat and lit the candles. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and breathed out. A haunting whistle filled the air. Lee looked over at Madoka questioningly, but she said nothing, keeping her eyes on Lin. No, not on him, he thought, frowning. Beyond him.

…

With Katagiri safely with his trusted assistants and on his way to a psychiatric hospital that Shibuya recommended earlier, Takarada turned back to see his lawyer waiting patiently.

"Atsuga-kun, I do hope you bring me good news."

"So do I. The building in question? The one with the Dolphin Café and Shibuya Psychic Research up above? The owner took your offer, making you the new owner of the building. All I need is your signature," the man said, holding out a small pile of papers.

Approaching him, Takarada removed an ornate pen of lacquered gold from the folds of his Greek god costume, and dashed his signature on the highlighted lines. Done, he handed the papers back.

"I'll go file these. May I ask, sir, why you decided to buy that building? Profitable as the café is, it's got nothing to do with show business."

"I don't care about the café. Let it run as it always has, unless there's trouble. I'm interested in owning the building because S.P.R. just solved our haunted set problem. I thought Shibuya-san would like to know that he's now able to operate in Shibuya rent-free."

The lawyer thought for a moment. "That's very generous of you, sir."

"I thought so, too. I need to go tell the young man. Please excuse me."

"Of course."

…

The sound continued, lilting, sad, eerie and peculiar. It was heavy and dense, this one sound. Somehow, someway, Lee had the feeling that it was reaching beyond _this_ world and into one that held the souls of those departed. The sound died away and Lin opened his eyes.

"Look," Madoka told him quietly.

He did. The light—that's all he could describe it as—approached, slowly, as if it was unsure of its welcome. Once floating in front of them, it slowly expanded and shaped itself into a proud man with features that were obscured by death and time.

"Mai," Lin said quietly, not taking his eyes off Benjamin's soul, "take off your bracelet. Let's give Annabelle-san her one last dance."

Annabelle took over Mai's body the moment the silver was off. "Benjamin," she breathed. "It really is you, my darling."

The specter nodded and drifted Mai's way. Holding out one hand he gestured. Annabelle smiled radiantly.

"I'd be honored to dance with you, sir!"

They took up positions for the waltz and to the ghostly strains of music took a first few tentative steps…

"Shibuya-san, I'd like to discuss compensation for your work," Lory announced, striding into the studio.

The dance fell apart. Benjamin's spirit disappeared as if a candle had been snuffed out. Annabelle turned to Lory, fury shining in her eyes. _Damnation,_ Lin thought.

"Matsuzaki-san!" he said sharply.

He needn't have bothered. The priestess was already performing the schichi-baku to bind the ghost. Annabelle froze, hatred oozing out of her as she glared at the man who _dared_ to interrupt her dance. It was clear she meant to try and kill the flamboyantly dressed man, but she was immobile and going nowhere.

Sparing the man an impatient look, Lin strained his senses into the world beyond, looking for that elusive glimmer of Benjamin that he'd called, hoping that he could summon him once again. Anger tightened his features. Benjamin Baker was gone, all that was left was a seething Annabelle and heavy regret. His eyes met Naru's and he shook his head, telling him without words that he couldn't recapture the specter.

"Another time," she drawled, furious. She looked at Lin with a warning.

He nodded briefly and that one consent gave a promise: another time, indeed. Now that they had the information and now that he knew he could summon Benjamin, he would do so again, the next time it wouldn't be a hatched job, but more formal—without interruptions. Annabelle's consciousness slid away, draining inward and leaving Mai frozen and disoriented.

"What happened?" she asked, as Ayako released her and replaced the bracelet. "Why isn't she gone?"

"We had an interruption," Naru said coolly, glaring at Takarada.

The man blanched a bit before clearing his throat loudly. "Did I… miss something?"

**~End.**

**A/N: **Whew! This chapter took _forever_! Sorry about that, guys. I didn't forget about this story; all my creativity was sucked up by my classes, which is good—it's a new outlet. But this story is almost done. I think one or two more chapters at the most.


	11. Chapter 10: Walking Alone

**Chapter 10: Walking Alone**

**A/N:** So… this is the last installment of Dancing Queen. Installment, not chapter; I've drawn out this story and Annabelle long enough, she has to go. Truthfully, this story wasn't supposed to be this long, but the problem with the Llarona case is that it'd be stupid if it took Naru some five or six chapters to figure out what was going on. Retrospectively, it was glaringly obvious. And with this last case (installment), Dancing Queen will come to an end. A little bit of info on where Dancing Queen came from. It was a baby bunny that a friend and I came up with. In fact, it was Nightshade that came up with the idea of Benjamin Baker being in the Battle of Peach Tree Creek and from there it went. So really, this entire story is dedicated to my not so imaginary friend, Lady Nightshade. And that ends this little spiel. If you'll direct your attention to the next talking point: let's talk about what I do own and what I don't own. Lee Chamberlin is my character, along with Annabelle and Benjamin; case characters you've met are mine, as well. I don't, however, own Ghost Hunt, Blue Bloods, Skip Beat!, Until Death Do Us Part, and Ouran High School Host Club. Bear in mind that I have not read the manga for OHSHC, only seen the anime. We good? Good. Onward. An FYI: the Japanese phrases came from Google Translate, so if they're incorrect, I'm sorry.

A massive, massive thanks to my beta-reader Col_Queen_5!

"_Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone." _

_~Shirley Jackson._

_June 15, 1984: local news station_

The package was delivered to her station. It was a non-descript envelope addressed to her. The handwriting was neat and flowing and it came from an address not in this country. Excitement tingled down her spine. There was something here, a big story. She could feel it in her very bones. Eagerly, Misty tore the envelope open; two video tapes tumbled out followed by a bundle of papers. She looked at the videos curiously, her light brown hair swaying with the movement and tickling her cheek. Irritated, she bundled the frizzy strands up in a ponytail and bound them with a hair tie. She picked up the video and turned it in her hand. There was no title, no nothing to indicate what the video tapes contained. She set them down and picked up the papers. There was a correlation between the two—there had to be. Why just send tapes, after all? The first envelope caught her eye. _Misty Barrington, WTOC11._

Curious, excited, and a bit cautious, she tugged it free and opened the envelope.

_Dear Miss Barrington,_

_Please read this letter very carefully before you play the videos. My name is Melissa LaQuis—surely you know my father Devon LaQuis. He's the business man who pretty much built the small suburb of Savannah that we live in. Well, technically he took credit for what my mother's father did. He married into the family and took her name, did you know that? But that's neither here, nor there. What I'm about to show you and prove to you, will be beyond your dreams. You know the rumors of mental and emotional abuse towards his daughter? Well, they're right. _

_Did you hear the rumors of his daughter being possessed? That's right, he bought the priest with a donation to the church. Do what you wish with this information. They're all copies anyways. I have the originals with me here in Japan where he shipped me off when the exorcism failed._

_I would recommend watching the videos now._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Melissa Anne LaQuis_

Unable to contain her excitement, Misty hurried into a sound booth and popped the video in. Her smile turned predatory as she watched the first video.

…

_Present day…_

"I have time," Lory commented to his silent companion as he strode to the main building of LME. He had missed something. Something extremely big and whatever they'd been trying to do… well, it wasn't cataclysmic that it'd been interrupted, but no one was happy with the fact that it had. "I can go over to their office and tell them in person; I own their office, actually, so there's no real rush. Now was not a good time. Lin-san looked as if he wanted to cause me bodily harm. I'll give them a couple of days and then tell them. Also, let's cut them a check for whatever denomination you think they'd have charged, plus the damaged equipment. I'm elated to say that they were actually able to deliver on their promise."

…

_The day after LME Studios…_

_Lin stood in a circle, waiting. His body was languid, indolent even, and his Shikigami floated around him—as if they were unsure of what they were all doing here, or what their master was up to. Blackness surrounded him, pressed in upon him, and, if he'd permitted it, would have suffocated him, dragging him down into the stygian depths beneath him. It felt like a waste of time, but he counseled himself to patience; this was merely a test to see if he was worth the time and effort. The scenery around him changed, and though he went into alert mode, his body language stayed the same. Blank space was filled with withered trees; leaves fell steadily from the branches, only to be replaced instantly and then fall again. One stately old oak that must have been magnificent when it was alive stood out acutely, its dead branches playing host to the most massive crow Lin had ever laid eyes on. _

_ "Well, sorcerer. Well met. It seems you wish to enter into a contract with me after all."_

_ It seemed impossible that the crow had spoken. It had no mouth to form the words with, but as sure as the sun rises in the East, Lin was certain that the crow had indeed spoken._

_ "Of sorts," Lin agreed, nodding his head to the proud creature, king of this world. That nod and his comment sent his Shikigami into a tizzy and they surged forward as if trying to shoo the bird away—as if they could make whatever Lin was aiming for not happen. The crow pecked viciously at the spirits, paying no heed to the one that circled until it rammed him. The demon whirled and drove its wicked beak at its attacker and watched, satisfied as they turned tail and returned to Lin, only to make their way back toward the crow demon again._

_ The large bird launched itself from its perch and morphed into a humanoid shape, it's jagged feathers forming a rough cloak that enveloped his body; wings became arms, hands; talons becoming heeled boots, and tail feathers morphing into one, long tail that swished to and fro. The creature glared at Lin's Shiki as they went on the offense again and the creature's eyes glowed an eerie blood-red. _

_ "Sorcerer," it growled, swiping at the Shiki again, "what do they think they're doing?"_

_ "Distracting you," Lin replied, curling the net threads they'd dropped onto the crow around his hand and giving an almighty yank, succeeding where his grandfather had once failed._

_ The net his other five spirit summonses had spread gathered and ensnared the demon before him, quickly binding and disappearing, sealing the demon's fate. The crow stared, stunned before glaring at his human captor. Lin's Shikigami became more visible to his eyes and he stared at them, bitterly mortified that he'd been bested so damned easily! How the mighty fall, the creature thought, glaring at his new master. Had he truly claimed that this boy was not powerful enough to bind him of all creatures?_

_ "Well met," he repeated bitterly, biting the words off in anger. "What wishes would you have me grant?"_

_ "None," Lin replied, dismissing the circle. He didn't need it anymore. He flexed his hands, watching as the threads joined the others in a complex pattern before disappearing to deep within him where his magic resided. The same complex pattern shone briefly on the crow demon before it too disappeared. "This is not a contract. You're officially my sixth Shikigami. I rather liked your name Sebastian when you were active in the late eighteen hundreds. Keep your name as Sebastian. When I have need of you, I will call you. I call my summonses with a whistle," he said demonstrating. "When I call you, you will be treated as an equal, just like my other Shikigami."_

_ "One sign of weakness," Sebastian, thusly renamed, snarled at him. "Just one and I will kill you, rend your body limb from limb, and feast upon you."_

_ Lin twitched a finger negligently and was rewarded with a gasp of pain, buckling knees, and another glare as the majestic demon crumpled to the floor, its heart tweaked. "That was the wrong answer," Lin told him mildly. "When I call you, if I do, you will be treated as an equal. You will not attack me. You will not attack Mai, nor anyone else I am associated with unless a command to do so is given. Do we have an understanding, Sebastian-san?"_

_ If looks could kill twice or thrice over, Lin would have been dead before hitting the ground. But the sorcerer had the upper hand—complete control over the crow and they both knew it. _

_ "I understand… master. Is that what you'd have me call you, my lord?"_

_ "Lin or Lin-san will do just nicely."_

_ "Lin-sama?"_

_ "Lin-sama."_

…

He came back from the demon's world with a shuddering gasp. His body felt like it was on fire, on ice, and hyperventilating all at once; the deep heaves that he took assured him that he was in the mortal realm once more—so he focused on forcing air into his lungs as deep, even breaths until he calmed and his heart returned to its normal pattern; there had been no euphoria in what he'd done, he thought grimly. Already Sebastian perched in that cold, desolate space on that dead tree and sulked—keeping himself away from his other Shikigami. Lin sighed. That crow would not tame easily—if it ever did. He was bound now, to Lin, by spell and net, and he was angry at his master for it. He looked up to see Naru looking at him, expectantly.

"I didn't want another Shikigami," he told him.

"I know."

But this particular demon had been active once again—Lin had refused to contract with it, and it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that it found those students to contract with after the Atsuka Case. Naru wanted to make beyond sure that the kids at Setsuda Prep hadn't entered into a pact with it so soon.

"At least we know that they're not in any sort agreement with this particular demon," Naru said bringing Lin back to the present.

"Sebastian. I kept the crow demon's name as Sebastian."

Naru nodded, not really saying anything.

Lin's vision swam and he felt nausea rear its ugly head; he got to his feet, unsteadily. "I need… to rest…" he murmured, staggering from the common room and into the bedroom. He undressed, leaving his clothing where it fell—quite unlike him, but he was too exhausted to care. Naru stared after the sorcerer, his brow furrowed for only a moment. With a quick and silent apology to his guardian, he exited into his own hotel room and stretched out onto his couch, staring at the ceiling.

When Mai entered the bedroom, her brows rose in shock; it helped to drive away the bone-chilling sensation that slipped down her spine slowly, like a leaky faucet. There was clothing everywhere that she could see. Koujo had stripped down to his boxers and sprawled face down on the mattress despite the mess; she could hear muffled snuffling as he slept like the dead. The mess that had greeted her was so unlike him, she thought, taking the moment to admire the sleek line of muscle in an exposed thigh and smooth muscles in his back; she recalled vividly sliding her hands up and down those muscles as his lips trailed down her body leisurely, and driving her nails into them as he moved inside her a wicked smile on his face as he did. Blushing, she bent down, gathering the strewn clothing and stuffing it into the hamper before approaching the bed and giving him a kiss on his temple.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered. She could have slipped in beside him, but for whatever reason, she didn't. There was a murderous aura around and she didn't want to know what was causing it. One of his Shiki brushed up against her and she smiled. It brushed again, acting almost like a curious dog that had noticed something. She was sure that that Shiki, whichever one it was, knew. "Shh," she admonished, bringing her finger to her lips. "Don't say anything."

Then, she left the hotel room. She'd tell Lin later when he wasn't catatonic. The baby expressed its disapproval and she rolled her eyes. _Little one,_ she thought, putting her hand on stomach lovingly, _your father is comatose right now. He's not going to be coherent enough to understand! And whatever your father did, it used up all his energy, so cut us some slack. I'll tell him very soon,_ she promised.

She could have stayed in the hotel room and waited for Koujo to wake, but who knew how long he'd sleep? She went back to her apartment and realized with consternation that she hadn't been back for nearly a month. She sneezed loudly and moved to a window to open it. Whew! The place was horrendously dusty. Putting her stuff down, she removed her shoes and put them by the door. Hands on her hips, she looked around and decided that a good cleaning was in order. She'd grown lazy staying with Koujo, she realized.

Marching into her bedroom, she stripped the tiny bed and dumped the linens in the hall. Marching into the equally small bathroom, she grabbed the towels, wrinkling her nose in distaste; they joined the sheets and would be the last chore she attended to. For now, however… she got to work dusting the serviceable space and soon, the air outside the window was filled with dancing dust motes as she vigorously shook the duster when it was filled. Vacuuming came next and that was when her landlady found her.

"Taniyama?" she asked, patting her on the back.

Mai winced and shut the vacuum, turning to the intruder.

"Landlady!" she exclaimed. "It's been a while."

"I'll say," the plump woman said putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. "Where in heaven's name have you been? It's been a month since I last saw you."

"Ah…" she trailed off, unsure of whether or not the landlady needed to know her business. It really wasn't necessary, she decided. "Alternate arrangements due to work."

Her landlady nodded and didn't ask further—despite being absolutely certain that the young lady had been with her boyfriend. If Taniyama wanted her to know, then she would tell her. She was hoping that one day, Taniyama would return with a beautiful diamond on her finger. If not, then well, she had an imagination, after all. "I'll leave you to your work."

"Thank you, landlady."

Leaving the apartment, the landlady followed her train of thought. Yes, one day soon Taniyama would return engaged and would clean out her apartment for a last time before handing in the keys; she already kept so little in the apartment as it was… had very little in the way of possessions beyond necessities. It wasn't that she didn't like Taniyama as a resident; she loved the girl like her own, but now that she was seeing someone, marriage was the next course, wasn't it? No need to keep the apartment after she got married; after marriage came children. Taniyama would be a wonderful mother, she was sure.

Unaware of her landlady's thoughts, Mai returned to her chores. Gathering up the linens and towels, she trudged down to the basement with her laptop and school assignments nestled in the middle of the pile, preparing for the long haul of waiting for laundry to finish. She started the load and settled down to check her email and begin her makeup assignments. One email in particular caught her eye: from a classmate informing her that she was to be his partner on an English assignment. Ootori, Kyouya—she thought she knew him…thought he had glasses, but she could be confusing him with Yasuhara. Curious, she clicked the link he sent her to the course page and read through the guidelines.

In English, a paper answering the question: _how would your life be different if… _and after the word if was a blank space. Mai's brow crinkled. Why were they working in pairs for this? She read on. Working in pairs to spot each other's English, its usage, so on. Mai shrugged and replied to her classmate that she thought she'd be in class tomorrow but couldn't guarantee it as S.P.R. was soon beginning a new case. In the meantime, she'd think about answers.

In reality, she didn't really need to think. She already had her answers. If her mother and father hadn't died, she'd never met Nar and the others, but that wasn't enough. She thought about how she and Lin had met: she'd injured him. That massive oversight had landed her a job and in the meantime, the means to go to college. She didn't want to use the generic: if I weren't an orphan, blah, blah, blah. No, if she hadn't stepped into that abandoned building, curiouser than a kitten, she'd never have injured Lin and landed herself a job she'd been with for… two, three years? It was a start, she decided, rising and transferring her laundry. She grimaced when she realized that she needed to go to the market after the laundry was done, too. She sighed. Really, being away for so long had left her a legion of things to finish that she'd neglected. No rest for the weary, she supposed.

…

Lin woke, disoriented. His room was pitch black and… missing something. Something? he questioned himself. No, not something, someone—his room was missing someone. Mai. Where was Mai, he wondered, propping himself up and groping for the lamp that he was sure was around somewhere. In response to his searching, one of his Shiki turned on the lamp, flooding the room with soft light. He buried his eyes until he grew adjusted. Puzzled, he peered up at his fourth Shiki, noticing that she'd donned a humanoid form—and somewhat human dress.

"This is quite rare, seeing you in a humanoid form; you normally hate that look. To what do I owe this honor?"

She didn't answer and he didn't expect her to. He sighed. He could command her to answer, but really, it wasn't worth it and she'd be angry with him if he did. His visible eye traveled to the corner where Sebastian perched on a withered branch and glared at him, shredding him limb from limb in his mind. He already had one Shikigami angry with him; he didn't need to add another to that list.

"Where's Mai?" he asked.

"She was here," came the answer, his Shiki's voice musical and lovely. "She picked up the mess and left."

"Left? Where did she go?" Left. He tried to get his fuzzy brain to catch up. Mai wasn't here; she'd left—to where? He looked at his Shiki expectantly.

"Home?" the summons answered with a lackadaisical shrug.

Home, he wondered puzzled. Where was that? Wasn't that here with him? No… home was… back to her apartment—which she hadn't been at for… almost a month, he thought grimacing. They still weren't anything more than a couple; he'd have to rectify that soon. He heaved himself out of bed, knowing that he shouldn't get dressed and leave—he _needed_ to sleep and allow his body the time to replenish its energies and magicks, but without her, he simply wouldn't sleep _well_. _I am well and truly sunk,_ he thought, stepping into a pair of clean jeans and shirt. Grabbing his wallet, he left the room, passing a hand to lock the door. At her tiny apartment, he found her asleep at her makeshift desk, her head buried on her arms, small snores emitting from her.

Locking the door behind him, he gently shut the laptop on rotating pictures of them and scooped her up, carrying her into the small bedroom. He was going to have a terrible crick from sleeping on the twin bed, but… he crawled into the bed and with her still in his arms, drifted off into a deep, dreamless slumber, his head cradled on her chest. As if she could sense him there, her arms wove around him, pulling him closer. As he slept, Lin could _feel_ his energy slowly trickling in and his magicks restoring.

Her rumbling stomach woke her and she shifted around, looking for a clock. It wasn't on the bedside? _No, of course not,_ she thought as a pair of strong arms tightened around her. She was back in her apartment, so the clock… it was perched on the bed mantle and the muted red numbers read eight-thirty. Mai yawned. Had she been asleep all this time? She looked about her bed and wondered when she'd climbed into it—she certainly didn't remember ever entering her bedroom!

A shift and murmur answered 'the how' and she looked to see Lin asleep in her bed. She smiled. He was gigantic in it, she mused, kissing the top of his head and gently extricating herself. She was hungry and she imagined he was, too. _And baby makes three,_ she thought as the baby gave a plaintive whine for food.

_Are you a boy or a girl,_ she asked. She got no answer. Yawning, she pattered into the kitchen and began to prepare some food. As she did, she wondered what she'd do about classes and the like if Lin decided to abandon her and the baby. She winced. She doubted that he would, but she needed to make plans just in case.

Lin woke to the smell of food and Mai's warmth being gone. Climbing out of the bed, he grimaced at the crick he'd developed and shook his lanky frame out, twisting this way and that to work it out. He joined her in the kitchen and listened to her humming along with ABBA on the radio. She had a terrible singing voice, he thought, amused; it too high and squeaky to ever be a good instrument, but it was charming all the same to hear her sing along with Japanese or English. He looked around the small space, remembering all the days and nights he'd spent on the convertible couch; she'd pushed the table out of the way, converted the couch, and put linens on it, he noticed—perhaps she was anticipating that he'd stay the night. He damn well was, he thought, turning back to her and leaning against the counter and watching her again. She turned to him.

He didn't often have visions of any sort, but this one grabbed him and bound him as he stared at her. This wasn't her apartment. Nor was it the hotel room he shared with Naru. It was a pretty little house, he thought, looking around. And Mai, she was heavily pregnant and breathtakingly beautiful. Looking down, he saw in his arms a chubby child, two or three years of age that squirmed and refused to let go of his shirt, if anything, the child gripped it tighter when he tried to put the baby down; it could walk, it was just stubborn.

He blinked and shook his head as a pang of longing hit him. He counseled himself to be realistic, but he couldn't shake what he'd seen, or the _want_ for that vision to be true. It had been so _real_. He'd felt the warmth of the squirming child and smelled the powder and soap that had been used, almost heard what his counterpart had said to Mai and her response.

"You're up," she said, wondering where he'd gone for those few seconds.

"You weren't there, so I came here," he offered.

"Why?"

The simple question staggered him and, he could admit it flustered him. Exactly why had he come here? His Shiki had told him that Mai had gone home… and he came because… he needed her, he realized; the simple companionship of a loved one. She was waiting for a response so he decided to be honest.

"Naru wanted to make sure that the crow demon we dealt with during the Atsuka Case wasn't active again with the students from Setsuda Prep." He managed a half smile. "I didn't want another Shikigami, but I have one—the crow named and renamed Sebastian."

"I see."

He knew that tone of voice and knew it well. She wanted a bit more than that. Pressing his lips together, he continued. "It… used up quite a lot magic." He scoffed. "It's something that Naru knows but doesn't truly grasp with understanding- and why should he? He doesn't use magic, so really, how could he understand? But I...I required… sleep. But… you… you weren't there with me; my fourth Shiki told me you came, but left and I knew... that without you there, I'd sleep, but it wouldn't be the restful sleep I needed. So I came here." He quirked a smile at his long-winded explanation and decided to simplify it. "Actually, I really just needed _you_."

She smiled at him, a full blown grin and approached him, kissing him softly. "Well, it's almost ready. Grab some chopsticks and the soy sauce, please. So now you have a sixth Shikigami," she stated as they ate. "I thought I felt something murderous when I peeked into your room."

"Is that why you didn't stay?" he asked, snagging broccoli and mushroom. The food was vegetarian, he noticed—because they were back on a case. After this one, he wanted a nice, long, vacation. Just him, Mai, no one else—clothing completely optional. The Caribbean sounded nice—it would make a nice honeymoon getaway.

"Yes. It was… uncomfortable."

"He's sulking."

Mai smirked. "Unsurprising I guess."

They finished out the meal in a comfortable silence.

…

She hadn't made it to class, Kyouya noted, adjusting his glasses and peering at narrow stairwell that connected to the office above, but he was sure she'd made it into work. Then again, she had said she wasn't positive about being in class, but that she'd begun to think about the paper. The paper he was sure she was wondering _why_ they were working in pairs on. He wasn't sure, either. And he was stalling. He knew he was. And it was unlike him—the Shadow King who'd once run, behind the scenes, an extremely successful host club at his high school. Sighing, he trotted up the stairs and entered into a blessed cool office. He looked around for Taniyama and arched a brow when he didn't see her. In fact, he didn't see anybody…

"Welcome! I'm Takahashi, the receptionist," a jovial voice bounded and Kyouya looked at the petite brunette, trying to place whether or not he'd seen her at Tokyo University before. "Ah…if you're here about a consultation, we can take down your information and get back to you at a later time," she said, trying not to think of how much contact information she'd collected in the past few hours. "A few of us are leaving soon for a case in Hanamaki."

_Did that 'few' include Taniyama? _Kyouya wondered. "I'm not here for a consultation. I'm here to speak with a classmate of mine—Taniyama Mai-san."

"Oh, Mai-chan." Lin-san wasn't the only one who was uncommonly popular lately. "I believe she's in Shibuya-san's office at the moment. Won't you have a seat? She shouldn't be too long."

Kyouya nodded and settled himself on one of the couches. She returned to her desk and continued whatever she was working on. To pass the time, he pulled out his phone and began checking his stock portfolio. He smiled in satisfaction when he saw that he had nearly all of his father's companies stocks under his control. A hostile take-over. His father wouldn't know what hit him—he hoped. His father hadn't gotten where he was in the world by being stupid or by dumb luck. He was as crafty as his sons were—the question was, was his third son craftier than his brothers? Time would tell. In the meantime, he had grades to keep in pristine condition—even if it meant partnering with a student in his class that he thought was a flake.

Ootori Kyouya did not have a good opinion of Taniyama Mai and the file he'd compiled on her agreed with his instincts. She was often absent, despite the fact that she always turned her work in either early or on time and despite the fact that she had a legitimate excuse for every time she missed class, he still considered her a flake—his research on her didn't exactly endear him to her efforts of schooling, after all.

Her high school had no prestige to speak of and she had been absent from her classes from _there, _too, quite a bit. Her grades from her first year had been average—border lining failing, but they'd improved drastically when she reached her second and third years; by the time she graduated she'd been an honor student. Her current grades in at the University were very good. When he'd been partnered with her by a random drawing (names in a hat of all lame things!), he'd asked the professor to allow him to work with someone else—Hiitachin Kaoru, for instance. Michinaga-sensei had refused to issue him a different partner, stating it would be good for Kyouya to work with someone different. Especially since he was going into International Business—he'd _have_ to work with different people and effectively. So here he was: at the place where she worked following up on her email.

He glanced around the office furtively. He didn't see anything that screamed 'psychic research done here!' as he took in his immediate surroundings. The room he sat in had a large window on the west side—from what he could see, the view was ordinary, as if the person who'd found and rented the place didn't care about the view. He wondered if this was a common room—it looked like one. The area he sat in had two couches and two chairs surrounding a coffee table. There were four desks occupying the outer walls, all with state-of-the-art computers on their surfaces. It was clean and uncluttered, reminding Kyouya of a normal office, but…this place was a Psychic Research Center, right? Where was all the equipment that they'd need? Where was the strangely dressed charlatan bouncing out of one of the four closed doors (that lead who knew where) with odd occult chants? And that was a stupid expectation. Obviously this place had no use for such clowns. And that unreasonable thought probably came from Umehito Nekozawa-san and his black magic nonsense from their high school days. One of the doors in the office opened and a young man barely older than Kyouya stepped out. Kyouya stood and peered towards the open door waiting for another person to appear. No one did.

"Shibuya-san, isn't Mai with you?" Yuko asked.

The young man settled eyes of frigid blue on the receptionist, but she simply stared back, to used to the glare to really care anymore. He shook his head. "Records Room with Madoka and Chamberlin-san."

"Ah." Takahashi moved to another door.

"Tell her I want tea."

Now the receptionist rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like tea-addict before disappearing into the doorway.

Naru focused on the newest face in his office and frowned. "If you're here for a consultation, we won't be available for a week or so, I'm afraid. I can recommend other Psychic Research Centers in the meantime."

Why was it that everyone he'd met in this place assume he was here for a conference, he wondered. This place had no stock attached to its name and he wasn't able to really find anything about the place despite his extensive research. Was this place really that popular? Kyouya shook his head. "I'm not here for a consultation… Shibuya-san, was it? I'm here to talk with Taniyama-san about a project she and I are partners on."

"I see. Her time to work with you will be limited. We're starting a new case in Hanamaki in two days time."

Kyouya forced a smile, even as his eyes gleamed cold. So Taniyama _was_ leaving, again. "I understand, Shibuya-san."

Naru's piercing blue eyes met and clashed with Kyouya's own blue and studied him. Kyouya had never felt like an experiment before. Before he could say anything, Naru dismissed him and murmured, "No, I really don't think you do." He turned to Mai when she exited the Records Room. "Mai, tea."

Mai stopped and stared at her boss; she hadn't gotten ten feet away from the Records Room before he'd ordered a cup of tea. "You seriously need to have your tea addiction checked."

A small smirk lifted his lips. Once upon a time, Mai thought, she'd have flushed seeing it. Once upon a time, a long time ago. She wondered if Lin wanted a cup, as well. She knew Yuko would want some and oh, she'd need a decaffeinated batch for herself.

"Chiaki says the same thing," he retorted.

"Humph. That's because she's sensible and knows the signs of addiction." Her gaze landed on Kyouya. "Ootori-san?" she asked.

He inclined his head. "Taniyama-san. I'm pleased that you remember me."

_Totally fake,_ Mai thought, giving him a bemused smile. She could all but hear the unspoken: _seeing as you're absent so much._ He'd say it in a very cordial, but snide tone of voice if he ever said it out loud. Nevertheless, she gave him an imperceptible smile that told Kyouya all he needed to know: that she saw right through him—just as she had seen through Naru when they met at her high school a few years ago.

"Would you care for some tea as well?"

He was about to refuse, but thought, what the hell? He was here, now. Tea certainly wouldn't kill him. "Yes, thank you."

After taking a sip, Kyouya had to admit that she made some damn good tea. The receptionist moved across the office, tea cup in hand, to the other door that he hadn't seen open at all while Mai settled herself across from him.

"Where in Hanamaki is your case taking you all?"

"Setsuda Preparatory School."

"I've heard of it. It's rivaling school is the Ouran Academy in Tokyo."

"You went there, didn't you, Ootori-san?"

Kyouya smiled. "Guilty as charged. What takes you to Setsuda Prep?"

Mai gave him a shuttered smile and took a sip of decaf green tea. "I'm afraid I can't discuss active cases with non-personnel or affiliates."

Kyouya blinked and stared at her in disbelief. Had his respect for flaky Taniyama Mai-san just gone up? Yes, he decided, it had. "I understand. So, to the assignment at hand. The open- ended question of if 'x' hadn't happened, then 'y'. I assume you'll be writing about your life would be different if your parents were still alive?" he asked, peering at her and adjusting his glasses.

Mai blinked. _How in the hell did he find out about me being an orphan?_ It wasn't exactly a secret, per se, but… it wasn't exactly common knowledge either and she certainly didn't show case it.

"I researched you, Taniyama-san," he said, correctly interpreting her look. "I research everyone whom I have to work with. For whatever reason," he added.

"I see." She pursed her lips. She could get angry. But what good would that do seeing as he already knew her circumstances? In the age of technology, finding out things like that weren't very hard. After all, Naru had done the same thing after he completed his case at her high school—that was what landed her this job in the first place. "I might write about that, yes. But I might not." She smiled sadly. "Being an orphan has given me many new perspectives. What about you, Ootori-san?"

"I don't know yet. What do you think I should write about, Taniyama-san?" He waited for her to prove herself to be completely uninformed aside from the fact that he was rich.

Mai frowned at him and gave him a piercing glance—and then he witnessed something…quite strange. He had no other words for it. Her eyes went wide and glassy for just a moment before returning to normal. "Exactly what stereotypical question should I throw your way, Ootori-san? I know you're extremely wealthy. If I remember correctly, the students were all agog when you decided to attend a quote-on-quote: 'lowly school'," she said, using her fingers to pantomime quotation marks, "like Tokyo University instead of some fancy abroad college. So tell me what I should ask you." She tilted her head to the side. "Should I ask you the typical 'if you weren't rich what then,' question? Or why you chose Tokyo University instead of say…" Mai shrugged and continued, "Oxford Trinity in England? That was actually your first choice, wasn't it? You were accepted, too, weren't you?"

"And how did you ever find that out, Taniyama-san?" She needn't have answered; he already knew.

"I work at a Psychic Research Facility for a reason, Ootori-san," she said anyways.

"So you do."

"Lin-san attends Oxford Trinity," she mused. "I believe he's taking correspondence courses, if they have such a thing."

"Lin-san?"

"Lin-san. He's… the jack-of-all-trades, if you will."

"I see. Well, what do you think I ought to write about, in all seriousness?"

Mai tilted her head to the side, considering him. "I'm curious, Ootori-san."

"About?" he prompted.

She gestured to his phone and laptop. "You're the third son. And you're in competition with your brothers to your father's fortune. Your sister was married off so she's not in this equation at all, but from what I understand, marriage aside, she's done well for herself without her father or husband's money. My question is this: why _are_ you so intent on being the one to gain your father's fortune?"

He considered her question, wondering secretly how she knew about his sister. "Isn't that obvious, Taniyama-san?"

"Is it? It can't be the money that truly spikes your interest."

"And what if it is?" he challenged. He was so intent on his conversation with Mai that he failed to notice another man exiting his office and just stopping, a displeased expression flitting across his face before settling back into its stoic look.

"Then you're no different from your father, are you? But…" she trailed off, focusing on him. "You _are_ different from your father and brothers. You're not just in it for the money—you're in it to prove that you're the best."

Kyouya sat back. "You're very astute." She reminded him of Haruhi, truth be told. He hoped that she and Morinozuka-sempai were happy together. Obliquely, he wondered if Taniyama-san was available and then dismissed the idea. He certainly wasn't shopping for a bride, no matter how astute.

"So here's an even better question for you to consider."

"I'm all ears, Taniyama-san."

"What if you _didn't_ inherit your father's wealth? What happens if you make your own way in the world—with only your own two hands and your wits?"

It was like she'd struck a chord within him. Haruhi had never bluntly asked him such a question—but then, she'd owed eighty-million yen to the club for the vase that she broke and seeing as he controlled her 'debt,' she didn't dare cross him—much. Taniyama-san, on the other hand, owed him nothing—nor was she under any such compulsion to repay a debt. Nevertheless, her question got his mind working. What if he wasn't named as his father's successor? What if, in spite of his background, he did indeed make his own way in the world? What if, what if. She was waiting for him to say something, he knew.

"That's a very intriguing question, Mai."

Lin went rigid and his eyes narrowed. How dare he use her name so familiarly! He heard Sebastian chuckle darkly.

She shrugged. "For you, perhaps. For people like me, Ootori-san, learning to create our own futures is a necessity. Perhaps _your_ paper should take a walk in shoes like mine."

"Well, it seems that we have my topic set—so let's talk about yours."

She smiled. "I would say that if I hadn't injured Lin-san in my high school's old classroom building, I'd never gotten this job." Her eyes narrowed. "I'd have never met Eugene, either," she murmured, "and started to develop my latent abilities. But more than that, if I hadn't injured Lin-san and gotten this job, I probably never would have gone to college. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to. I owe a lot to that stupid morning," she finished, smiling fondly at the memory of a foolish girl wandering into an abandoned building to check out the camera.

"I'm sorry, but who is Eugene?" Kyouya asked curiously.

Her smile turned sad as she remembered the kiss they'd shared back when they'd worked on the lust spell in her school; later, his explanation of who he really was and the fact that he was dead and unable to leave his twin, _'I was going to tell you, but…' _"My spirit guide," she told him. That was the safest and best explanation. "I have a spirit guide called Eugene—or Gene, as I call him. I met him when a bookshelf?" she questioned, touching her lips and becoming introspective for a moment, "Yes, a bookshelf fell on me in the old school building where S.P.R was investigating."

"You owe a lot to the injury you caused," Kyouya commented, his tone just a bit sarcastic. "And the person in question that was injured? How did Lin-san react to you receiving a job out of his injury?"

_Originally, I was upset. But she grew on me,_ he thought.

Mai shrugged and took another sip of tea. "Most likely he wasn't happy, but really, what could he do? He was in the hospital and Naru needed an assistant. It was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, me replacing Lin-san—and it turned into a full time job a few years later. Retrospectively, I never did ask him how he felt when Naru hired me after that. Truth be told, I did try to ask one time and the glare he gave me sent me running for the hills metaphorically speaking."

"Perhaps you should and write about that."

She shook her head. "That's you being nasty, Ootori-san. There's too much animosity in it. But certainly I like the topic of what I owe to being hired by Naru. That's a good topic. Thank you for suggesting it, Ootori-san."

"Kyouya," he told her. His opinion of her was beginning to change.

"Pardon?"

"Call me Kyouya. And may I call you Mai?"

Mai watched him for a second. "You can call me Mai, Kyouya-san." She looked up and saw Lin standing there with murder in his eyes and smiled as thrills danced up and down her spine and lopped around the rest of her body. She smiled again, this time at him in greeting. "Lin-san. We were just talking about you. Did you need me for something?"

Startled, Kyouya turned and saw the tall Chinese man standing there and he was certain he wasn't imagining the bloodlust in the man's visible eye. But what caused it? The fact that he was talking to Mai? Kyouya didn't know and he certainly didn't want to ask. He'd never admit it, but the man was scary!

"So I heard," he said, a small half-quirk twitching his lips. "For your information, Ootori-san, I was at first upset when Mai was hired—rightly so, after all and I needn't drag up the past and explain in detail. But soon it became 'let bygones-be-bygones.' Taniyama-san, when you and Ootori-san are done, we need to discuss your cover story."

"I understand," she nodded. "I think we're done here, yes, Kyouya-san?"

"I believe we are for now." He regarded the two of them for a moment.

"Then have a nice day," Lin said abruptly before Kyouya could utter another word. Turning on his heel, he returned to his office.

Kyouya blinked. Just like that he'd been dismissed. It was a humbling experience that got on his nerves. With nothing else to do, he stood and collected his stuff. "Good luck to you, Mai-san." Snagging a spare piece of paper, he jotted down his cell phone number and handed it to her. "I have yours already."

She took the note and pocketed it. "I'm not even going to ask how you got the number."

A small smile graced his lips. "I told you, I researched you. That included your cell phone number."

"You're truly scary, Kyouya-san. I'll contact you when we're back."

"How long do you think your case will take?"

"I couldn't say. We'll spend the first day or so just trying to ascertain what's going on there before we do anything else."

"Then, I'll wish you luck one last time. Please be safe, Mai-san."

"Thank you. I'll see you soon, gods willing."

After her classmate left, she wandered into Lin's office and found herself trapped between the door and _him_ with his mouth possessively fused to hers, his body hard and unyielding against hers. _In the office_, she thought, thrilled and exhilarated. Her hands moved listlessly before wrapping around him and finding purchase in his hair as she returned the kiss fervently. She never would have guessed Lin to allow passion in the office of all places.

"Here now, what's this?" she murmured as he dropped his head to her shoulder.

"I do believe I was angry with him," Lin said with some amazement. "He addressed you so familiarly before you gave him permission."

She sighed and brought his face back to hers for another kiss. "Let's not even think about it, then."

…

_Office of the Mayor of New York…_

"Frank," Poole said, walking into his office and behind his desk. He found it somewhat odd that Frank had elected to call upon him personally, rather than over the phone. Whatever it was that warranted a face-to-face meeting was probably serious. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Mayor," Frank greeted taking a seat. "I know I've been a bit of a… trial…"

"Please, spare me platitudes, Frank. You've been a pain in my ass since I took office a couple of months ago; every now and again I've regretted not accepting your resignation. The problem I've been finding is that you're usually right. Now what can I do for you?" he asked again.

"I need for your permission to reopen a case."

"My permission? You're the Police Commissioner. Why would you need the mayor's permission?"

"Because it was your predecessor who closed this particular case."

Cater pursed his lips and nodded. "I see. What case?"

Frank placed the thick manila file folder on the other man's desk in silent invitation. Sitting down, the mayor put on a pair of glasses and opened the file, wincing at the gruesome pictures. Death was rarely pretty, he thought, but this was just agonizing. The expressions frozen on their faces pleading for help that could never arrive, and the mouths open in silent torment… he recognized this. This had been part of his campaign—keeping children safe. "The museum cases?"

"Yes sir."

"Why? I thought that the killings stopped when the collection left New York."

"Are you aware of the how close your election was with the former mayor?" Frank asked instead.

"Yes. It was a very close election," Carter replied, pulling off his glasses.

"Yes it was. And I know that the former mayor outspent you thanks to a donation from the man who owned the collection that was responsible for their deaths."

"What are you saying, Frank? How can that collection be responsible for them?"

"I'm going to tell you a story, Mr. Mayor. And I need you to promise to listen with an open mind."

"All right. I promise." Agreement was easier than actually doing, he would learn.

"I don't know if you're aware, but the investigation focused on one person: Samuel McLaughlin and his collection. There's an object that's part of his collection: a pair of dancing shoes. They've claimed quite a lot of victims over the past…oh, almost two-hundred years. The problem, Mr. Mayor, is that this ghost never stopped collecting victims. She looks for mediums because she wants one last dance with her lover that supposedly died during the Battle of Peachtree Creek back in 1864. And yes, Mr. Mayor, I know _exactly_ how this sounds: crazy. I wouldn't tell you this if I hadn't actually met, after a fashion, the ghost that calls herself Annabelle."

Frank paused and looked at Carter before continuing. "Samuel McLaughlin is now in Japan and I've met the young lady who's his current target and possessed by Annabelle. I'm cautiously optimistic that this time, the girl won't die because the ghost chose the wrong victim." Now he leaned forward, his gaze intense and demanding on the mayor. "But in the meantime, I want McLaughlin. I want him for the bodies here in New York the same way the other states want him for the bodies in their territories. It's not just the young ladies that were killed—it's for the families that some of them had and found themselves sued for 'stealing property.' I want you to give me permission to have Detectives Reagan and Curatola finish their investigations. Please," he added as an afterthought.

Carter stared at his Police Commissioner and wondered if it wasn't wrong to be thankful that his children had been unaffected by all of this. He scoffed in surprise and shook his head. "A ghost. It's hard to accept. I always thought they were just stories—things you hear at Halloween-time. I never imagined you and I would sit here one day and discuss a homicidal one." The mayor fell silent. "I have children," Carter said quietly. He looked down at the blotter on his desk and smiled grimly. "I'm thankful that they weren't chosen, but that's the father in me talking as I'm sure the father and grandfather in you is thanking whatever powers that be that it's not one of your children or grandchildren. The mayor in me knows that there's more to this and my heart goes out to the families that lost their loved ones to a ghost…or whatever it is. All right Frank, do what you wish. Have your detectives finish their investigation." Carter Poole stood. "And if Samuel McLaughlin lands in New York, have him arrested."

Frank got to his feet and offered his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor."

Outside the mayor's office, Frank pulled out his phone and put in a call to his son. "The mayor's allowed me to reopen the museum cases. Find something we can use against McLaughlin."

…

Mai stood in between the massive school gates, just at the threshold, that invisible line _barrier_ between the road leading down to the village and the school. And once she crossed it, she was in the school's territory… and whatever was here. After all, that was the purpose of the threshold, really: the last line of defense. Her brow furrowed; what, exactly, was here? Students playing with black magic? It sounded plausible… but didn't feel right. A demon? Mai shuddered. She hoped not! A vengeful god? She could do without another one. Or maybe it was an angry ghost.

A horrible chill swept through her and she wrapped her arms around herself. Something was here, all right and it was their job to figure out what and put a stop to it. Resolutely, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and step through the gates. Inside the gates, she stopped and simply admired the grounds that sprawled before her. Trees, so many trees, sat in copses creating an inviting space to sit on the many benches and tables during the autumn, spring and summer to talk, have meals, or study.

There used to be fruit trees—but too many students would pick the trees bare of fruit…

Shaking her head, Mai headed to the tree-lined path and began to head towards the building itself. The school was a converted mansion. The couple that owned it had not been able to have children, so they chose to fill their halls with youths bright and eager to learn. Mai wasn't totally sure that she believed the altruism behind the school, but anything was possible. As she walked she frowned. She was awed, yes, but there was a healthy dose of cynicism in her attitude, too. After all, she'd been sent away because she was an embarrassment to her ultra-strict Roman Catholic family because she dared to think for herself and practice magic. Her mouth turned down into a ferocious frown. Prep school. Ha! 'Prison' was more like it. But she had her books and equipment with her. What she'd need—well, every school had one: a person who could obtain anything they wanted, approved or not, for a price, of course. Money was no issue—she had her own that her parents couldn't touch and what they didn't know, well, it couldn't and wouldn't hurt them.

"Young lady!"

Mai snapped back, shocked at where her thoughts had been and felt drained to the core. She squinted up at the tall, statuesque woman who barred her path from the doors. She tried to speak, but no words were forthcoming. Finally, "I'm sorry," she stuttered.

The woman looking down at her frowned. Mai couldn't see her eyes, but she thought she detected something more than concern. "I have been trying to get your attention for the last minute or so."

"I'm sorry," Mai offered again.

"Now that I have your attention: are you the new student, Taniyama Mai?"

"Yes."

"Taniyama-san, are you unwell?"

Mai opened her mouth to tell the woman that she was fine… but that was a lie. She was horribly weak and freezing cold. "I'm feeling a bit…overwhelmed, at the moment."

"Higher altitude can cause this," the woman agreed gravely. "You will need to take care that you do not over-exert yourself until you are used to our atmosphere. We are very different from Tokyo."

"Yes," Mai said. "I'm sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name…"

A small, pleased smile crossed the woman's mouth. "Lovely manners as expected from a girl from St. Lobelia's Academy. I am your Vice Principal: Hirata Hinata. Follow me, I shall explain our rules and once we are at the office, give you your schedule. The principal will want a word with you before he introduces you to your class. We've had a few changes in staff," she began, leading the way up the steps and into the building. The cold, Mai noticed, persisted. "We have a new counselor," Hinata said, her mouth thinning with distaste, even though her expression didn't change.

That mouth was wide and mobile. It couldn't hide anything. That was why she sucked at games like poker in general.

"If you find that the counselor is unable to help you, you may come to me."

"Yes, Hirata-sensei."

"The counselor also has an assistant with her, though why she needs one I hardly know. He seems to be efficient," she told Mai grudgingly.

Mai hid a smile. Naru would be half-way pleased to hear that, she thought as she imagined the eye roll the remark would gain.

"We also have a new teacher for English and History."

"Just one teacher?" Mai asked.

"Yes. Amano-sensei taught both, but is currently incapacitated at the moment. The new teacher's name is Lin. He will also be your homeroom teacher."

"I understand."

"Now… about your uniform… it is quite… reserved. We do offer a less strict alternative."

"Ah, but I came from St. Lobelia's Academy, Hirata-sensei. I'm perfectly fine with my uniform as it is." _Especially since Annabelle was so kind to leave me lovely bruises when she took her temper out on me!_

"I quite understand. Well, the office is this way."

_Prison. And she's a jailer, now. Some things truly never change._

What bothered Mai was that she was sure that those thoughts and experiences weren't hers, and she probably wouldn't be able to discuss them with Lin or Naru until later this week. Behind the vice principal's back, Mai's face set into firm lines. It would have to be earlier—one way or another, she would meet with them tonight or tomorrow morning, early.

…

Danny and Jackie dashed through pouring rain from their car and over to the shabby apartment building where Tina and Robert Druitmeyer, the adoptive parents of Roxanne Seigal lived. With one hand, Danny pushed the ringer for the apartment 5-D and was thankful that it wasn't at the very top of the building because the elevator had been out of order the last time they'd visited. Beside him, Jackie shifted and moved, trying to warm up.

A voice, hallelujah, Jackie thought, came over the intercom. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Druitmeyer?" she asked, praying the lady wouldn't tell them to go to hell like the other two couples they'd spoken to had.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded wary. So had the other two.

"Mrs. Druitmeyer, I'm Detective Curatola with the NYPD, do you remember me and my partner?"

"Of course I do," she said and they heard the bitterness in her voice. "I know that man must have paid you to stop investigating my daughter's death."

"Not us, Mrs. Druitmeyer. The former mayor," Danny told her.

"Either way."

"The new mayor, Mayor Poole has given the Commissioner permission to reopen the cases and that's why we're here. We have new information regarding your daughter's death and we'd like to share it with you. May we come up?"

"I suppose…" The buzzer sounded and Jackie and Danny stepped into blessed warmth. They noted that this time the elevator was working and they decided to make use of it. Inside the apartment they remembered from earlier that unlike its exterior, the interior was homey and bright with a roaring fire in the fire place to ward off the ever-present chill that seemed to pervade the building itself. On the way over, Jackie had reread the files they had on the Druitmeyers. They'd adopted Roxanne Sigal because after her last son's birth she'd needed a hysterectomy and the family had wanted a girl. They'd gotten her for only a few short years before she'd been a victim of that collection. Silently, they shrugged out of sodden coats, gloves, and hats in the mudroom before entering the apartment proper.

"How are you and your husband holding up?" Jackie asked, following Tina into the kitchen.

"Everyday it's a struggle," she answered. "I seem to recall you two live on coffee—why don't we take it into the living room where the fire is?"

"Thank you," Danny said.

"You said… you might have new information?" she asked, handing the detectives large mugs of coffee. Leaning forward, Jackie added some cream and two spoonfuls of sugar—something that Danny had never seen her do before. Then again, back at the station, it was safer to drink it black.

"There's no 'might' about it," Danny said, taking a liberal swallow and nearly moaning in pleasure.

A ghost of smile touched her lips. "There's more, so don't hold back."

"Oh, trust me. I won't."

"Mrs. Druitmeyer, Samuel McLaughlin knew that your daughter was going to die. Knew it and counted on it."

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

…

Hashimoto led Mai to the already occupied classroom and said, "You're still able to turn back, you know."

"And leave Naru, Lin-san, and Ayako hanging? I'm not that type of person. Besides, I've already survived high school. _This_ is an assignment where I'm simply posing as a student."

Hashimoto smiled, albeit sadly, it seemed to Mai. She got the overwhelming sense of love and regret and wondered about it. There was something she just wasn't… able to put her finger on. A tangible sadness. It had greeted her the minute she stepped inside the gates and stayed with her ever since. _And it's important to what's going on here,_ she thought, especially since in the back of her mind, she had the sensation of being hauled bodily as she walked.

"I leave it to you all then. You'll have free reign. Should you need assistance, you need only ask me. I'll help you all in any way that I can." He handed her a slip of paper and key becoming all business: a principal introducing a new student to her class; his voice returned to his natural volume as he gave her the run-down of the school. "This contains your room number and the key to it. Your stuff should already be in your rooms. Breakfast is served seven a.m. to eight-thirty and class starts at nine-thirty sharp. Lights are out at ten and anyone outside the curfew is immediately given detention. Your tests placed you in class 1-B and I would ask that you forgive any mistakes Lin-sensei makes as he's a temporary replacement for Amano-sensei, who is indisposed at this time." He pulled open the classroom door and stepped in; Mai waited just outside until he called her in.

"Lin-sensei, class, there's a new student starting today. I ask that you all be very kind to her and help her until she's more comfortable with our school. Please come in," Hashimoto called.

Mai stepped in and Lin's mind went blank. It had been two years since he'd seen her in a uniform, he thought. Her uniform wasn't a popular choice, he knew. He could already see the girls eyeing it with disdain. The long skirt was so very out of vogue compared to the short, thigh-high ones worn by the rest of the girls. For him, even though he knew her body intimately, the conservative outfit left so much to the imagination. The long skirt covered everything except her shapely calves and it was already beginning to torture him, he could feel a physical throb begin. The top was even worse because really, all he wanted to do was toss her onto the desk and remove the sweater and long top layer by layer until he met bare flesh. Sebastian chuckled darkly and Lin snapped back. _That reminds me, _he thought to the crow demon, looking beyond Mai for a second and to the creature on the withered branch. _Your task is to aid and protect Mai while we're at this school. Do you understand?_

The demon's eyes glowed red. _Yes, Lin-sama._

_Then go._

He snapped himself back. This was it—it officially began now. "Thank you, Hashimoto-sensei. Taniyama-san, please introduce yourself to the class."

Clasping her hands in front of her demurely, she smiled shyly and said, "I'm Taniyama Mai. Please take care of me."

"The second seat in the last row is yours," Lin said, looking down at the notes that he was still trying to decipher.

"Yes, sensei," she responded, scrambling to the seat. She looked around at the kids that would be her 'classmates' for the duration of this investigation. What she saw made her mildly nostalgic and slightly apprehensive. She could already see the cliques and who was part of which. She, the new 'transfer student' would be at the bottom of the class until she either proved herself or worse. _Lights, camera, action. Let the games begin,_ she lectured herself, looking at Lin and waiting for the act to start.

Tezuka Eri sat in her seat a few rows away from the new transfer student, toying idly with the ornate locket at her throat. She ignored the new student; she'd heard that her dad was an artist of sorts and it seemed so flighty to her whose father was a solid and successful businessman. The new girl had to be a scholarship student. The boys in the class were looking at her askance, some with interest, some with condescension. Let them have her, she decided. She had no interest in _boys._ She liked _men_. Hashimoto-sensei was a good example, if a bit too old. Now the man standing in front of the class… she permitted a small smile before it disappeared. Now _he_ was perfect. She wound the chain around her nimble fingers and wondered what kind of woman he preferred—and how she was going to about getting into his bed and vice-versa. She could just show up in his room, on his bed and naked waiting for him to return from whatever he did after class. Maybe, she thought tugging on the silver chain, maybe Melissa could help her with that. Maybe.

Lin shoved the notes away from him in disgust. He was optimistic that Amano-sensei's notes were as badly written for English as they were History. He was prepared, however, he knew, grabbing the stack of papers.

"Clear your desks," he announced. "Young man, that includes the manga you're trying so desperately to hide in your lap," he ordered with a silent thanks to his Shiki who'd ratted the boy out. "We're having a small quiz to see what you know and what I need to work on. Amano-sensei's notes are a novelty in and of themselves and I won't waste any more time trying to decipher them. You may use either pen or pencil. When you're finished, please place the papers on my desk and return to your seats," he finished, systematically handing out the papers to each student.

"Sensei, _I_ can tell you where we are."

The sultry voice bothered Mai for some reason and she turned to see who had spoken. She was stunning, Mai thought, a tad enviously. She wished that her hair would hold some sort of style—hers, whomever she was, had long, lustrous black hair that seemed to be a waterfall held back with a simple headband from her high forehead. She had lovely gray eyes and smooth skin stretched over a delicate bone structure. Suddenly, Mai wasn't sure she liked Koujo being a teacher in this class. She silenced that thought immediately, because as Naru said: Lin was the only member of SPR that could safely pose as a teacher. Still… she thought turning back to the front and propping her head on a fist and smiling faintly, she could admit to a small pang of jealousy, no matter how irrational. She wondered what he'd say in response.

Lin, however, didn't say anything as he moved up and down the rows, handing out the tests. Mai fought a chuckle as he plunked the test down on the desk the young lady who'd spoken sat at and moved on. When he got to her desk, his fingers lingered for just a second before handing the last test out and returning to the desk.

"You may begin," he instructed.

It was pathetically easy for Mai, but then, she was in University and had already passed her exams. It happened around her second short answer question. Unbeknownst to Mai, Lin stiffened and paused, waiting. His Shiki travelled around him frantically as something… decided to join the class—no, decided to join wasn't the right verb—he just couldn't think of way to describe it since he wasn't able to see ghosts.

_So she wants the teacher, does she? I wonder why I'm not surprised!_

Eh? Mai wondered, glancing around furtively. What she saw made her drop her pencil. A ghost hovered over the student that had spoken earlier with a bored expression on her lovely, indistinct features. The pencil's clattering shattered everyone's attention, including the ghost's. Briefly, her eyes met Mai's before she vanished back into an ornate locket around the student's throat.

"Taniyama!" Lin barked.

Mai started. "Ah! Sorry! I'm really sorry!" she cried, snatching her pencil and returning to her test. Her face was a lovely shade of red.

What had she seen? Lin wondered, keeping the glare up as she went back to writing frantically. She'd seen something hovering over that student. He'd felt it—and now he was wondering just what was going on here. The principal said it was black magic—but it felt more like what they'd dealt with a couple of years ago at Mai's high school: a ghost with magic. He'd confer with Mai when he got the chance—possibly he could pull her out of class on a pretext of some sort. Mai finished the test in record time. The short answer had even given her the opportunity to get a message to Lin that they all needed to meet, and soon.

A short time later Lin said, "I'm gratified that the school lives up to its standards. Taniyama-san, however, was the only student to get all the questions right. Don't glare at her!" he admonished. "St. Lobelia's Academy has a slightly different curriculum from other schools. Strictly speaking, Japan doesn't do very much business with Europe, but it's still good to know about its history, and really, _all of you_ should know that it was the Black Plague that wiped out a third of Europe's population. The bell's about to ring, so you may have the rest of the period to yourselves. Taniyama-san, a word if you please."

"Ah, yes sensei!" she said, rising.

Eri rose too, determined to talk to the teacher and tell him where the class stood in terms of their lessons… and maybe finding ways to seduce him. She beat Mai out the door and grabbed his hand, pulling him to a halt. "Sensei!"

_You can do it, right? _Eri thought.

_It'll be difficult…_

_ As if I __**care**__ about that. I know you heard me earlier! Make him mine and then you go back to Hashimoto-sensei._ She snapped back to attention when Lin snapped his fingers in her face.

"Young lady!" he said exasperated. "Let go of me this instant."

"I wanted to talk to sensei for a moment," she murmured, tucking his hand close to the locket concealed beneath her uniform top; his hand was coincidentally close to her bosom, Lin noticed sardonically. He wondered if there wasn't a secret photographer around. Lin tugged his hand free, his glare frozen. She felt a thrill when pulled his hand away and it showed in her catty smirk.

"Name?" he demanded.

"Eri," she told him. "Tezuka Eri."

"Tezuka-san, you will not do that again," he told her, his expression angry and pitying. It stung to see that pity. He continued, "You will not touch me ever again. Are we clear?" he asked, noting that Mai had an unreadable expression on her face and anger in her eyes.

Cold washed over Eri, making her anger swell. How dare he! Didn't he know that he was a miserable, small time substitute who wouldn't land a job at this school if she put in a few bad words?

"Do you understand, Tezuka-san? This is not a shoujo manga. This is a school and you'd do well to remember that I'm very much allowed to kick you out of the class. Do not pull that stunt again. If you have something to say, then say it. If not, then return to your classroom." He switched gears. "Taniyama-san, if you please, a moment of your time."

"Yes, sir!" Mai cried, snapping back into character and rushing after her lover.

"Don't get angry at me," he muttered at her.

"I'm not. I'm angry at that girl. And…I think that she's one of the people we're looking for."

"She's practicing black magic?" he asked, coming to a stop away from her and flipping idly through a history book before handing it to her. That didn't jive with the feeling of an entity in the classroom for a moment. He supposed it could—necromancy was a portion of black magic in this day and age, but why bother summoning a _ghost_? It made no sense. It couldn't serve a person, wait on them hand and foot, do their homework, take their place, etc. Added to that, it was an incredibly weak ghost. The only reason he'd felt anything was because of the room—and that made as much sense as a building being haunted when it was land subsidence, he admitted to himself, halting those false thoughts. It wasn't a weak ghost. It had some massive powers on its side, whomever it was. The question then, was _who_ was the ghost and what power did it have?

Understanding, Mai took the book and scanned the contents on the pages before nodding and handing it back. "I don't think we're dealing with black magic at all. I think we're dealing with something remarkably similar to the lust case at my school."

He took out the English lesson book and randomly chose a page, handing it to her. "Is that what you saw?" he asked her, pointing to the lesson on that page.

Mai nodded. "Yep. Probably attached to the locket around that girl's throat."

Locket? He hadn't seen a locket. That didn't mean it didn't exist, however. He wasn't paying attention to the students jewelry. But he would when he returned to the class for English.

"Thank you for your time, Taniyama-san. You may return to your classroom. Please guide her there, Tezuka-san and next time you try to eavesdrop, I _will_ give you detention; I'm sure there's plenty to do around the grounds; the groundskeeper will be happy to have help for a week or so, don't you agree?"

The pinched look on the other girl's face said it all.

As he walked away, Lin frowned. Lately, it seemed like everyone had either been after Mai or himself; he wouldn't be surprised if that girl found a young man to woo Mai just to make sure that she didn't steal him away. High school. Was there any wonder he hated it with a passion? He only had six more classes to go. That mantra wasn't going to help him in the coming days, sadly. Lin certainly hoped they were able to figure this out soon.

School was over. Mai had forgotten just how long it could be with college classes being a bit more convenient schedule-wise. Tired, half-amused, and very cranky, she climbed the final set stairs to her room and sighed when she saw the door. She wanted a bath, some tea, and food—being a high school student was hungry work. Speaking of baths, she sincerely hoped that she didn't have to go down five flights of stairs to get to the bathroom. This was an all-girls dorm, but… communal baths with other girls could be a bit…sticky. There were only two doors up here on this final floor. She looked at the other door curiously and wondered why there were only two doors on this floor. Look between both, she saw that hers was the door on the left. Unlocking the door, she went in and immediately removed her shoes with a sigh. She jumped in fright when she saw an unknown man in her room.

"Who… who are you?" she stuttered, pressing her back against the door and groping for the handle, ready to flee if she needed to.

"My, don't you recognize me?" he asked, turning that beautiful face to her.

There was a small smirk on that face, she noted. And the way he drew her name out gave Mai the impression that he was poking fun at her. Puzzled, she huffed and frowned at him. Recognize him? She wasn't sure she'd ever _seen_ him before. As she continued to scrutinize, a sensation flowed into her between one heart beat and the next: cold, old, enraged at being bound… _'I left because it was uncomfortable…' 'He's sulking. Sebastian, I kept his name Sebastian.'_

"Sebastian-san?" she asked tentatively.

The demon smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Well done, Taniyama-sama."

So that was the who, but not the what or why. Tilting her head to the side, she asked, "What are you doing in my room?"

The bafflement in her voice was amusing, the demon thought. "Lin-san asked me to watch over you for the duration of this case."

"'Asked?'" Mai echoed.

Sebastian's eyes flared red for a second and a murderous rage nearly overwhelmed her before his eyes settled back to their warm, mellifluous brown that didn't fool Mai in the least. Koujo would be better off letting this one go, she thought faintly.

"Lin-sama _ordered_ me to watch over you."

"Thank you."

Sebastian looked at her strangely. He couldn't remember the last time he was actually _thanked_. "Shouldn't you thank Lin-sama?"

"Well, yes, and when I get the chance, I will. But in the meantime, since you'll be doing the actual 'watching over' I'll thank you in advance for your efforts. I'm not so easy to protect, I've been told," she finished with a half smirk on her lips.

"I'm sure I won't have a problem," Sebastian informed her, turning back to the small kitchenette. He looked over his shoulder with a wicked grin. "After all, I'm one _hell_ of a bodyguard."

"The way you said that," Mai began, "aren't you implying that you're a _demonic_ bodyguard? After all, like all of Koujo's Shiki, you _are_ a demon."

"Ho," Sebastian said, impressed despite himself and smirked. "You're the first human to catch on to that little addition of mine, besides my former masters. Please make yourself comfortable, Mai-sama. I'll make some tea and work on a snack. Any preferences?"

"No, not really."

"Then I'll get started."

Picking up her bag, she paused and said, "Sebastian-san."

The demon paused measuring out the tea. "Yes?"

"Lose the tuxedo. I'm not that formal. You're a bodyguard, not a butler." Besides, the only person she wanted to see in a tuxedo was Koujo, with her walking towards him in a wedding dress that she couldn't possibly afford. But hey, that's why it was called a fantasy, right?

"I shall keep that in mind." He'd have to observe what people wore in this day and age so better to blend in. With Kaede-sama (whose soul had been exceptionally delicious), he'd masqueraded as her or her mother. Now that he was bound (a brief spurt of rage scattered tea leaves all over the kitchen), he'd have to observe the human world to blend in.

Smiling, Mai decided to explore the room she'd been given. It seemed to follow the basic floor plan of her apartment—her apartment was a bit bigger. Sebastian stood in the small kitchenette and she wondered if the rooms downstairs had one—she sincerely doubted it. Perhaps this was a teacher's room? That was a distinct possibility. No, not a possibility because the room across from her belonged to Amano-sensei, the teacher that Lin was temporarily replacing. There were two doors off the living room/dining room. She chose one at random and breathed a sigh of relief. She had a full bathroom and wouldn't have to walk down five flights of stairs to take a bath. So the next door was her bedroom.

It was tiny. A full bed, a dresser, and a desk were crammed into the room. The desk itself was smaller than the ones in the classroom, she noted. There was a table out in the living area that she could make use of instead of the tiny desk. Stowing her school bag on the desk, she pulled open the curtains and was greeted with a vast view of the grounds and a phenomenal view of the stars. But that wasn't possible, Mai thought to herself. It wasn't dark yet. True the sun was beginning to set, but it wasn't dark yet. The stars shouldn't be out. In the small kitchen Sebastian's head snapped up and swiveled around to the bedroom. Something was here. Turning off the single burner, he went in search of his master's lover. As Mai continued to puzzle on the dark sky, a melancholy feeling overwhelmed her. The stars made her homesick. Her room had also been on the top of a grand house and she'd loved sitting at the window seat and just gazing at them. She didn't belong in this foreign country any more than she'd belonged back in Savannah. Her only solace was that Masaharu was here, too. And The Morrigan had helped with the language barrier.

"Mai-sama?"

Mai started. Sebastian was shaking her shoulder gently.

"Sebastian-san?" she murmured, wondering why her head was so fuzzy.

"Mai-sama, are you all right?"

All right? Was she all right? How could she be all right when her family had sent her to this damned school after their botched exorcism failed?! The last thing Mai recalled before her vision went black was Sebastian's worried expression. _At least he's a good actor,_ she thought before she slumped to the ground.

_"I am Masaharu," he said, his English liberally accented. "This challenge is what?"_

_ "Melissa—I'm Melissa. And this is a stupid Halloween thing," she said, noting to herself that the transfer student was kind of cute. "We're looking for a certain grave."_

_ "Look?" he asked, baffled, peering around at the haphazard collection of tombstones. They were in the oldest part of the cemetery where the person they were looking for should have been buried, but there was no guarantee. _

_ "Find," she clarified. _

_ "Ah. I understand. Ne… Marrisa-san, we've met, you and I?"_

_ Marrisa. She shrugged mentally. It was close enough. "We met at a coven meeting about a week ago." She shone her heavy duty flash light on a random grave—nope. Not the person they were, ha-ha, looking for. She heard a sritch-scratch behind her and turned, counseling herself not to freak out. So what if it was Halloween—it was probably just a cat. She hoped. _

_ "Hai—yes," he corrected quickly. "Yes, as you say a coven meeting. I am… how you say… " he trailed off, muttering to himself for a moment. "I am… interested in knowing more."_

_ "Well, you were in the right place." The scritch-scratching sound came again and she whirled, shining the beam around wildly. It didn't cut through the gathering gloom, though. Where it had come from she had no clue; the weather had said it would be a clear night. So where was this fog coming from? _

_ "Daijobu desu ka?" he asked quietly._

_ She looked at him blankly and he slapped a hand to his head. "Baka," he muttered. "Are you all right?" he translated._

_ Her lips curved in a smile. He was totally adorable. "Is that what that phrase means?"_

_ "Yes," he answered carefully._

_ "What language?"_

_ "I am from Japan."_

_ "Japan. I've never even thought to study Japanese! Hey, Masaharu, you're here to learn English, right?" she asked him._

_ "That is why my parents send me, yes."_

_ "Tell you what: I'll help you learn English if you'll help me learn Japanese."_

_ "It is deal."_

_ "Starting now," Melissa said. "It is __**a**__ deal." _

_ "It is a deal," he repeated dutifully. "In my language, 'sore ga keiyakudesu.'"_

_ "'Sore ga keiyakudesu,'" she repeated. The words felt foreign on her tongue and she smiled. The words had an interesting sound and melody to them. The sound came again. This time Masaharu heard it and looked around violently for the source._

_ "Ne," he began backing towards the tombstone they stood near, "are we… boxed in by this…kiri…no, fog?" _

_ She nodded wordlessly. "It seems like," she managed, feeling the fog slither into her clothing and down. Then, out of the fog, __**they**__ came and she wasn't sure exactly what they were. She'd never paid much attention to the stories concerning Halloween and the like. They were just stories, weren't they? Obviously not. Terror tied her vocal cords into knots; she could barely force a word out of her lips. Slowly, as if they were being confronted by a rabid dog instead of a small army of…whatever the hell they were. They were emaciated creatures that clicked their jaws shut convulsively as a lethal looking slime dribbled down from their elongated teeth. _

_ "Shokujinki," he muttered. _

_ "What?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of the hungry creatures. Oh, God, what about the others, she wondered frantically. Were they also being hunted by these things?_

_ "Shokujinki," he said again. "'Hungry ghosts that eat corpses."_

_ Corpses. "Uh… we're not dead…" she squeaked out._

_ "Not yet," he corrected grimly as they continued to move backwards._

_ Hungry ghosts. Something clicked in her mind. "We call them 'ghouls' here," Melissa told him, backing away faster until her back hit the solid stone behind her. _

_ They were closer now—far too close on all sides and she could __**smell **__ them; it was awful, the stench of rot and decay. She didn't want to become dinner for the rabid undead. Especially not when she'd finally met someone awesome! She'd been told time and again that she was no great beauty. __**And is this what people actually think about before they die, **__she wondered. __**Stupid, useless regrets? Here's what I regret, **__she thought fiercely, closing her eyes, __**not knowing enough about witchcraft to summon something or someone to help us!**_

_ As if her thoughts were heard, a slicing sound reverberated through the fog and a few of the ghouls disappeared with earth shattering screams. In front of Melissa and Masaharu stood a being that could only be a god. They didn't have to see her face to know that she was glaring viciously at the ghouls that had paused uncertainly when their comrades departed painfully. They started forward again, undeterred. _

_ "Come then!" she ordered imperiously, showing off her weapons. "Come and taste my blades. I am The Morrigan, Queen of the Dead; Queen of Ghosts and you are not welcome here this night!" She dispatched the rest with ease; the fog rolled back and disappeared as if it had never come in the first place. "Filthy creatures," she said, flicking the ichor off her wicked looking scimitars before dismissing her weapons. She turned to them._

_ A whole new kind of terror took root and shut Melissa's voice down. The being in front of her was resplendent and wild, the perfect deity to kill an army of ghouls. She spoke again, "Children, make me your patron god and I will see to it that you are safe for all your days."_

_ "We will," Melissa said, her voice sounding clumsy and dull. "Well, I will. Masaharu?"_

_ "I… accept."_

_ And that was how they came to worship the Morrigan. Over the next couple of months, Melissa found that she and Masaharu had quite a lot in common. They both liked Yoga and loved to hike. Hiking gave them a way to get away from the mundane society of school and for Melissa, her family that seemed to be scrutinizing her every move. Under Melissa's tutelage, Masaharu's English became more fluent. He still had trouble every now and again, but that was to be expected. And by the same, with him as her teacher, she slowly began to grasp the intricacies of Japanese._

_ That fateful day that she set up her video recorder in her closet to record her message to Masaharu who had gone back to Japan for a brief holiday, was something she could never have expected. Melissa knew that her family had been planning __**something**__ but for the love of the goddess, she couldn't figure out what. She shrugged it off and ran through a standard test with the camera before taking a deep breath. _

_ "Hi, Masaharu! Hopefully by the time this reaches you, you're still in Japan. No guarantee though. But I thought… that I'd send you a video tape of myself speaking the phrases you taught me. So… here goes!" She took another deep breath. "Ohayo! Oh, wait, wrong time of day… Koni'ichwa?" she asked, frowning and looking down at her watch. "Oh, no, far too late… eto, ano… ah, Konbanwa!" She grinned madly at the camera. "Yatta!" She cleared her throat. "Eto… Atashi no nameawa Marrisa toeii moshimasu," she said carefully enunciating. _

_ She shut the closet door hurriedly when her father barged in with her mother and Father Micah. Ice slid down her stomach as she looked at the hard set of her father's face and the grim countenance of the priest. _

_ "What's this all about?" she asked carefully._

_ "Here she is," her father said, not answering her or even looking at her. "Do as you feel you must, Father Micah. We leave her in your hands and God's."_

_ "Ittai nani ga?" _

_ She hadn't realized she said it out loud. Her mother gasped and let out a keening cry; her father's face darkened and he turned and escorted her mother out of the bedroom, leaving her alone with Father Micah._

_ "Father Micah," she began, now feeling scared. _

_ "Demon, be silent!"_

_ Melissa's eyes widened and she backed away. No way. They thought she was __**possessed**__? Was it really so hard to __**ask**__? She looked at the closet door before the priest began his ritual. __**Morrigan, my lady,**__ she thought. __**I humbly beg your help!**_

_ The priest, so intent on his exorcism, failed to notice the closet door opening and the video recorder that was still running._

A few days later…

_ Popping a fresh tape into the video camera, she took a deep breath. "This video is an impromptu documentary of sorts. Please lend me your time and patience."_

…

A persistent and petulant whimper pulled Mai from the vision and she came to in an unfamiliar room. She sighed at the fit the baby was pitching. Not even born yet and you're already giving me a hard time, she thought wincing at a particularly high keen. All right, enough, she ordered silently, caressing her aching head and settling her other hand on her stomach.

"Mai?"

She froze and looked to her right. Koujo sat there, looking relieved. He looked pale, she noted. But it could be light. Somehow, she didn't think so. Gingerly, she levered herself into a sitting position and winced again, biting her lip. She'd never been sick after a vision before. "Where am I?"

"Infirmary," he answered, rising and helping her against the pillows. "I'll get you something for the pain."

She nodded weakly. He returned a few seconds later with a glass of water and two pills. "All the nurse has is acetaminophen."

"It's better than nothing," she replied. And Ayako had told her that she could take acetaminophen—sparingly, but she could take it. She downed the medicine and put the empty glass beside her. "How did I get here?"

"Sebastian brought you to me when you fainted."

Fainted? "I did _not_ faint," she insisted, looking beyond his shoulder to the crow perched on his dead throne.

A small smile flitted across Lin's face, improving his color just a bit. Mai still wondered what had happened to give him that pallor. Before she could ask him what he spoke, "Are you all right?"

"Me?" she asked. "This has happened before. Are you all right?" she returned. "You look…scared."

"I was—extremely. Your visions haven't kept you out for this long."

"How long was I out?"

"It's close to ten," he told her.

"Wow," she muttered, understanding his plight. "That was long. And I didn't see Eugene at all."

His visible eye narrowed at her, speculating. He didn't want to remember her convulsing and how helpless he'd been when she had. "Not at all?"

She shook her head, relieved that the pain medication was working. Her stomach gurgled and she smiled sheepishly. "I guess I missed dinner."

"Matsuzaki-san should be returning with food."

"And Naru?"

"Talking to the nurse. We've had to tell her the truth of what we're doing here." He hesitated. "You… began to convulse. It was the only thing we could do to prevent her from calling an ambulance. Back to what you said earlier: you didn't see Eugene."

"Wait, wait," she ordered. "Rewind that bit. I _convulsed_?" Oh, gods, the baby! Mai thought frantically trying to reach out to the growing life within her. It _was _okay, wasn't it? _You are okay, aren't you?_ The baby murmured reassuringly to her that it was just fine and she heaved a mental sigh of relief.

"Mai?"

"I'm sorry. I freaked for a moment when you told me I had a convulsion. That's never happened before and I was… concerned." Now that she knew the baby was unharmed, her mind clicked onto a small detail however and she thought she might have an explanation for the convulsion she didn't remember and the headache she had as a result.

"That's understandable. Even Naru was worried. But you didn't see Gene at all?"

Mai shook her head. She longed to tell Lin about the baby, but now wasn't the time, either. "Gene… had nothing to do with this vision. I have the feeling that he won't have anything to do with a few of the ones following this one. Someone else wants me to see this story."

"Or something."

"Or something," she agreed. "I would think that the convulsion explains the headache," she said lightly.

He broke at that comment and snatched her up, squeezing. "I was frightened, so frightened," he muttered against her, sitting again and placing her in his lap. "I've never seen your visions make you convulse. You looked so small and delicate that I wasn't sure…" he trailed off, his voice breaking.

"I'm all right," she repeated, caressing his cheekbones. "I'm all right." She kissed him lightly, not having the energy to do more.

"There was nothing I could do," he whispered, continuing as if he hadn't heard her. "All the power I possess and there was nothing I could do but watch helplessly as you shook and tossed your head from side to side."

"I'm okay," she said again. "Really. What I saw raises a lot of questions, but doesn't give us any answers," she said, bringing him away from the memory of her convulsion. "And I think I can explain the convulsion."

"I'm listening," he said, easing his long body down onto the mattress so she lay against him. It amazed him over and over how well she fit against him. He frowned when he thought he detected…something. Whatever it was, it was benign so he tucked to the back-burner of his mind; it was a puzzle for another day.

"They tried to exorcise her and it failed miserably because she wasn't possessed."

He snapped to attention at that. "Her, who?"

"Melissa. Melissa Anne LaQuis, an American transfer student from Savannah. The room I have now is her former room. Which brings up this question: that's a teacher's quarters—I know because Amano-senei's room is across the hall—how did she come to stay in it when she was here? Another question: why did they try to exorcise her when she wasn't possessed at all?"

"We don't have the answers yet, but you'll probably get them soon. You said Savannah. Lieutenant Chamberlin might be able to help us out there."

"Also, I can tell you that this girl had a patron goddess."

Lin's gaze sharpened; patron god or goddess usually meant magic. That made him wonder why they'd really been called here. "And that would be?"

"The Morrigan."

The Queen of Ghosts. This strange puzzle was starting to make sense.

"I think that Melissa's patron goddess is the same goddess as Hashimoto-sensei's."

And that raised a whole new set of questions, he decided. Still, some of the pieces were starting to click into place. The door opened, admitting Matsuzaki-san, Naru, and the nurse, as well as the scents of food that had Lin's stomach rumbling. His eyes met Naru's and an unspoken communication passed. When the nurse was gone, they would all talk.

~Owari, for now… Be darlings and leave me plenty of reviews. ^_^


	12. Chapter 11: Smoke and Mirrors

**Chapter 11: Smoke and Mirrors**

**A/N:** So here we are: chapter eleven. Wow, I can't believe this story is almost three years old—or is it older? Older, I guess. Oh, this chapter—nothing actually turned out the way I wrote it by hand, you know—the scene with Kyouya being a prime example. Now, listen, guys, this chapter is sure to confuse some of you in certain parts. Just keep reading and it should by the end make sense. For the record, I don't own: Ghost Hunt, Blue Bloods, Until Death Do Us Part, Ouran High School Host Club, or Kuroshitsuji. Did I get them all? I think so. Also, a large thanks to Cold_Queen_5 for her outstanding beta-skills!

Another note, guys: in some places, I have the Ghost Hunt Group remain in character even when they're seemingly alone. I did this because they're not sure when they're absolutely alone.

_**July 18, 1984,**_

"And you're live in three, two, one… now!" the cameraman said.

Misty aimed a dazzling smile at the camera that despite its beauty was full of malice. "Good evening, Savannah! I'm Misty Barrington with WTOC-11. It's six o'clock and we begin tonight's news with a shocking story involving one of town's most prominent families: the LaQuis'…"

…

Devon LaQuis regarded the ringing cordless phone in his office with a heavy sigh. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, but doing so might help to take his mind off more pressing matters: how to make certain that his (he shuddered to think it) daughter didn't return from Japan where she'd chosen to go after the exorcism failed. He knew the exorcism had been doomed to fail; she hadn't even possessed—and they both knew it. Devon had heartily encouraged her to travel to Japan and study there for… well, she could stay away forever, as far as he was concerned. He'd bought her a one-way ticket hoping she'd get the drift, but Melissa had her own funds that she could access and she could buy her own plane ticket home. Jennifer would expect her home, he thought, compressing his lips in a tight grimace, and short of Melissa either dying, or finding a Japanese boy and eloping with him, thus causing her to relocate, in a few months time, she would be home.

And then all hell would break loose. Jennifer didn't know about the exorcism he'd bought with a sizeable donation to the church. She simply thought that Melissa was in dire need of counseling and Father Micah had been brought in to help her with that. When Melissa returned, however, that would all change and he was desperate to prevent that from happening. Bad enough that Jennifer's father had forced him to sign a pre-nuptial agreement so that in the case of a divorce, Devon got nothing and whatever he'd bought with his wife's money went to either Jennifer or Melissa. He was dirt-poor and he knew it; just as Jennifer's father knew he'd primarily married Jennifer for the money. Not that Jennifer cared—she'd always been in love with him.

If Jennifer ever got wind that he had paid for an exorcism for their daughter when she wasn't possessed all bets were off. He just couldn't let that happen, either. Yes, he hated Melissa just based on the virtue of her sex; he'd wanted a son, not a daughter; yes, he'd done everything in his power to make it seem like she couldn't be trusted and that she was unstable. The insistent ringing brought him back.

"All right, all right," he muttered, grabbing the phone. "Yes?"

"It's Chad."

He barely stifled a sigh. Chad Renner wasn't the distraction he was hoping for, but he supposed that he would do, for now. Getting up from the chair, he went over to the wet bar and poured himself a brandy. "Now's not a good time, Renner."

"Make it a good time or you can kiss everything you've got goodbye. Turn on the news."

He frowned. What now? Renner was the only one who knew about the exorcism. And now this: Renner had called with a demand.

"What channel?"

"WTOC-11."

Snore. The news bored him. There was nothing new. Still, there was something about the fact that Renner had demanded him to turn the news that made him uneasy. Reluctantly, he did as told and upped the volume. Dread crawled up his stomach and through his body; the brandy snifter fell to the carpet with a dull thud as the exorcism he'd paid for with a sizeable donation to the church was there on tape and on television. It wasn't supposed to be on tape, he thought frantically. How had it gotten on tape? Everything about that day was supposed to be mum other than Father Micah being called to help Melissa with her issues. He couldn't let Jennifer see this! He had to make absolutely certain that she didn't.

"That was a clip of an exorcism performed on Melissa LaQuis, who is currently in Japan as an exchange student. The question that the viewers should be asking themselves is this: how was an exorcism granted when the person in question was not possessed? When the local church was contacted for a comment, they declined to give one. I'm Misty Barrington and we'll have more for you on this shocking story when we come back."

"Renner, I need to go. Bye." He hung up the phone and started to gnaw on his thumbnail.

…

_Two days earlier, Japan, Setsuda Prep School, Hanamaki..._

"Marissa!" Kaoru Hashimoto beamed at the American exchange student. She would never tell her son—the one she never thought she'd have—or her husband, but every time she saw the girl her son had fallen in love with, her heart broke. To be reviled by her father, it was unforgivable in her estimation. She'd had so many miscarriages and failed attempts that she began to believe she'd never bring a life into this world. That was why she'd created this school—it helped to fill part of that void. The gods answered her prayers with Masaharu, and Masaharu found love in America where they sent him for a year to improve his English. Her son had returned to with Marissa in tow and told his parents the story of the tragic young lady he'd fallen for. They'd accepted her instantly and hoped that she and Masaharu would make things official between them. However, in the six months that Marissa had been part of the school Kaoru had built, she watched the young lady grow more and more sad. Some days were better than others, Kaoru knew. She also knew that the girl went through a terrible amount of bullying—two students in particular with the worst. It made Kaoru angry that the girl never complained—that pride of hers, Kaoru mused. She had quite a lot of it. And yet, as the principal (and school owner), Kaoru could help—if Marissa would only confide what her troubles were.

"How are you?" she asked in slow, precise, and liberally accented English.

The wan smile she received upon asking worried her more than the knowledge of a student being bullied.

"I'm okay," Melissa responded in kind.

"Melissa," Kaoru said, carefully enunciating the girl's name— the sounds were foreign on her tongue and not at all easy to coax out—"if something or someone bothers you I want you to tell me. I can help you, you know. Promise me that if you won't tell me, then you'll at least tell Masaharu-kun what troubles you, yes?"

Melissa smiled sadly at the use of her English name. She knew that Kaoru Hashimoto meant well. Under any other circumstances, Melissa would jump at the chance to unload what Hirata and Amano were doing to her, but she just couldn't. Especially because very soon it wouldn't matter. The Morrigan was, after all, the Queen of the Dead. She said, "I'll keep that in mind."

….

_Present day, eleven-thirty a.m.; Setsuda Prepatory…_

Mai woke up feeling unbearably sad and alone. A quick glance around told her that she was indeed by her lonesome; Koujo was gone, just as he'd promised last night. Gingerly, she sat up and waited patiently for the nurse who'd just noticed her charge was awake.

"I understand that you sometimes collapse when you're besieged by a vision," the nurse began. Actually, Mai didn't usually collapse with visions, but lately she had; she also didn't bother to tell the nurse that. Let her think what she would. "But that doesn't change the fact that you had a small scare and you still need to rest. I will keep your secret, rest assured. For now, however, I want you to return to your dorm room—no point in going to class when half the day's gone. I will inform Hashimoto-sensei and your teachers. Go on, get out of here. Take acetaminophen for a headache if you find that you've got one." The nurse continued, "Should your headache persist; or should you start to feel dizzy, seeing double, call 4-1-1 immediately. There's a phone in your apartment for emergencies," she said, smiling at Mai's confused look. "But you also have a cell phone, don't you? Good. Hopefully, I won't see you back anytime soon."

Smiling, Mai pulled her uniform back on. She wasn't quick enough to hide the bruises, however. Before the woman could comment, Mai correctly read her reaction to it and said, "Annabelle."

"Pardon?"

Mai simply shook her head. "Don't get possessed by a murderous ghost." The medium considered the other woman for a moment before deciding to try. "Sensei?"

"What is it?" the other asked, absentmindedly as she updated Mai's chart; she'd chosen to ignore the younger woman and her comment about being possessed.

"Did you know Melissa LaQuis?"

Junko frowned. "Is she a student here?"

"She was back in the eighties."

"Oh, then no. I've only been here for about seven years. Shinobu-sensei was here before I was."

Mai felt a tingle of excitement. Maybe, just maybe, they were getting somewhere. "Is he still alive?"

"Of course he is! What a silly question. He moved to Tokyo and opened a practice there—I dare say he'd had enough of school kids to last him several life times. Now get out of here."

So Shinobu-sensei went to Tokyo and had a practice there. Perhaps Madoka would be willing to contact him and find out what he could recall about Melissa LaQuis, she thought, barely registering Sebastian's presence as she returned to her dorm room. She would update Naru as soon as she'd eaten and cleaned up a bit. Climbing the last of the stairs, she began to make her way to her door, fumbling tiredly with the key when she came to a stop at the room opposite her own. She tilted her head to the side. There was… something about that room…Mai had the strongest sensation of _needing _to get in there, but why she couldn't say. She wondered briefly why she was getting this vibe _now_ instead of when she'd first arrived in this building. With another yawn, she decided that whatever it was had waited this long, it could surely wait a little bit longer while she freshened up. She turned from the door and went to her own.

Back in her room, she barely heard Sebastian tell her that a brunch of some sort would be ready soon. Absently, she thanked him, went into her room, grabbed clean clothing, and went into the bathroom, where she indulged in a hot shower—washing away last night. She'd just finished rinsing her hair when the water turned frigid—telling Mai that she was no longer alone and it wasn't Sebastian. Yelping, she cut the water and shoved sopping hair out of her eyes, shivering as the chill permeated her body. She looked at the shower curtain and saw beyond it an indistinct humanoid shape waiting just outside for her. Frowning, she stuck her arm out, taking a sharp breath at the frigid air that raised goose bumps on her skin and groped for the towel that she'd left—she wasn't facing a ghost in the nude; she didn't care if they were both girls. Her fingers encountered the towel far too easily for her visitor to not have assisted. One part grateful, one part annoyed, and one part curious, Mai took the proffered towel and wrapped it around herself before climbing out of the shower and coming face-to-face with Melissa.

Gesturing to the towel she said, "Thanks."

Melissa had been beautiful when she was alive. Mai could easily see why Hashimoto-sensei had fallen in love with her all those years ago. She had a willowy figure and perfect hourglass body. Back when she was alive her hair had probably been a dark color and curly. It was straight and long now as a ghost—but then, it wasn't as if she couldn't make herself as she wanted to be being dead. Her skin was anyone's guess, but if what Mai had seen in her dreams was true, it had been a luminous, golden complexion with hazel eyes. She'd gotten some very good genes, Mai thought, examining the high forehead and delicately arched cheekbones in a lovely heart-shaped face.

"Hashimoto-sensei isn't really concerned about kids practicing black magic, is he? He really just wants to know what happened to you. But why cause accidents? Why Amano-sensei? Didn't Hashimoto-sensei know it was you all along?"

A terrible look of grief stole over Melissa's face when Mai mentioned the principal. She jabbed at her throat a few times and Mai tipped her head to the side just so, allowing her to catch what Melissa said: "Locket."

"It's yours?" she asked, thinking of the one around Tezuka-san's throat.

Melissa nodded. "Gift."

Mai understood immediately; it had been a gift from Hashimoto. "We'll get it back somehow," she murmured. She looked at her visitor contemplatively before deciding to just go for it. "I saw you in a dream," she began. "I have a good idea of what Hirata and Amano were doing to you. Why didn't you tell Kaoru-san? If you had, you might still be alive."

An incandescent tear tracked down the ghost's cheek and Mai felt her own eyes begin to water. Turning, Melissa floated into the mirror, Mai followed, placing her palm on the chilly glass. With a shaky smile, Melissa lifted a finger and traced a message: _Find me!_

The directive appeared in thick red blood and Mai swiped at it with her towel, faintly surprised that it actually appeared on said towel. The message disappeared abruptly, being replaced with an alcove of some sort made of stone and wood—Melissa's resting place. It was in the school somewhere, she knew, but where _that_ was she had no clue. Before she could ask for more information however, Melissa disappeared, having depleted her energy. It seemed that that was all Mai would get for the time being.

_That's not very much to go on_, she thought, biting her lip. She wondered if they'd be able to figure it out with just that. She shook her head and scoffed and her pessimistic thought. Naru had figured out more complex things with less. Of course they'd figure it out! And when they did, she'd be able to send Melissa on to where she needed to be.

Mai dried and dressed hurriedly. She need to go recount everything that had just transpired and the dream she'd had in the infirmary. If they were going to find Melissa, then whatever Melissa could tell her would be needed.

…

_Meanwhile…_

While Mai dealt with her ghostly intruder, Sebastian had his hands full of trying to decide whether or not to answer the impatient knocks and calls outside the door. He frowned. He was fairly confident that Mai-sama could handle herself and those kids weren't going to go away anytime soon. Cursing, the crow decided to answer the door in Mai's stead as Mai. Morphing himself into a reasonable facsimile of her, he opened the door, a puzzled and fatigued look on his face. 'Mai' blinked. "Tezuka…san, right? And, I'm sorry…? You two…?"

Tezuka Eri flanked by two of her friends and looking surly stood there, her hand raised to pound again. "Tsuchino Megumi and Hajima Yukari. You missed class."

"Yes. I was sick—Junko-sensei said it was altitude sickness and ordered that I return to my room and rest." She yawned and ran her hand through her hair distractedly before yawning again.

"How fortunate for you," Eri said, still upset that Lin-sensei had ordered _her_ to drop off Taniyama's work.

_'You live in the same dorm as her. It shouldn't be a problem, right?'_

No, no problem. She just didn't like Taniyama based on principle and she was _loathed_ to bring her anything; in Eri's world, if you missed class it was your responsibility to find out what work you missed and get it from your respective teachers—never mind that Megumi and Yukari had brought her her work if she missed class.

"If you say so," Mai answered.

"Here," Eri said, thrusting the bundle of papers and books at her. "The work you missed plus assigned homework. Lin-sensei gathered it for you and you'd better be grateful. Amano-sensei wouldn't have done that." _I wouldn't have brought it if the teacher hadn't ordered me to, either!_

Sebastian knew that Mai's work had been collected; his master had informed him of such. He didn't think that it would be this child who would be the deliverer, however. It was an amusing sense of irony this girl who hated Taniyama-sama just because she was new and had a 'father' that was not like Tezuka's father. There was… something there, he thought, fumbling as Mai would with the unfamiliar parcels. Had he not been bound… the old rage surfaced again momentarily washing his eyes blood red that would have sent the three girls screaming if they ever got a glimpse of his face. But, he _was_ bound. And unless Lin-sama let him go, bound he would stay. The bloodlust leeched from his eyes, returning to Mai's chocolate colored orbs. 'Mai' got a handle on the papers and books just as the real Mai's visitor vanished abruptly. "That was very kind of him."

Taking advantage of Mai's fumbling, Eri shoved past her and into the room, getting a chill as she did so.

"Nice room," she said, covering her discomfiture of Mai. "A bit… bare."

'Mai' shrugged.

"Then again, what do I expect?" Eri asked, talking more to herself and flashing Mai a particularly nasty smirk, "scholarship daughter of a poor artist no mother in sight. Did she leave your father because he was a bum and drunk?"

Her friends tittered.

Humans, Sebastian thought, they simply never changed. He recognized the dig when he heard it; he imagined that Mai would simply shrug off their accusations—petty high school bullies after all. He was not Mai, however, he was simply masquerading as her. Approaching the door, the demon touched the knob and gestured to outside. Mai's cover, he knew, was that her father had moved to Hanamaki to work on a piece that the city commissioned. And the city had commissioned an artist to create a statue commemorating Miyazawa Kenji, so it wouldn't be odd if the 'daughter' of said artist were removed from her school in Tokyo to a school in Hanamaki. Furthermore, he knew that St. Lobelia's Academy in Tokyo was far more expensive than Setsuda Prepatory based just on location alone—not to mention a less eclectic curriculum.

"Enough money to send me to St. Lobelia's Academy in Tokyo." Sebastian stretched Mai's mouth into a pleasant, but nasty smile. "And St. Lobelia's was far more expensive than Setsuda Prep. Now please, I'm still feeling tired. I'll you all in class Monday morning. Thank you for dropping off my work."

Faces taut with anger, the three girls left in silence. Sebastian was sure that the silence would last only until they were away from the door and he was right. Tezuka blew as soon as she was out of Mai's hearing range (thought not his). The sound made Sebastian smile.

"Bravo, Sebastian-san," Mai said, leaving the hallway from where she'd been watching.

Releasing her form, Sebastian turned to her, a small smile on his face. "I'll admit that I rather enjoyed that."

"I can't blame you. They're just plain nasty."

"Your ghostly visitor is gone. Did she not want to stay for tea?"

Mai offered him a sad smile; her compassion for the dead and the living floored him. "Maybe she can join me another time. She depleted all her energy to show me where her body is. It wasn't very detailed, but… we've solved cases on less than what she gave me."

For the first time since being bound—perhaps for the first time in a very long time, Sebastian's smile was small, but genuine. Oh, he was still angry. Perhaps that would never fade, but his smile for his master's lover was true. Shaking her head and willing the tears to not fall, the brunette went into her bedroom and retrieved her laptop, returning to the main living room.

"Well? What would Mai-sama have me do? Would you have me find her body?"

Mai paused in the action of setting up her laptop and peered at him, puzzled. "I was under the impression that Koujo ordered you to be my body guard in his stead, not my servant. Of course I don't want you to locate her body. That's our job, not yours. But Sebastian-san, could I ask you for some tea? I'm so cold."

…

Lies and half-truths seemed to be the order of the week, Naru thought, reading Mai's email. If the young man thought about it, the last couple of cases save for the Takamoto and LME Studios cases were the only ones that were truthful. He glanced over at Ayako and saw that she'd just finished reading Mai's email, too. Lin wasn't in the staff room at the moment, so any discussion would have to wait until they were all together, until then, they had roles to perform. Business as usual, the priestess rose from her chair and said, "I need to speak with Hashimoto-sensei."

"Yes, you did mention that you had an appointment with him," Naru replied, nodding.

Ayako held up a stack of files and tried to not smile evilly at the look of utter horror on the young man's face. He absolutely abhorred his role as assistant and she was loving every second of it. "Please deliver these files to Hirata-sensei."

Inwardly Naru groaned. Matsuzaki-san was enjoying his role at bit too much. He hated grunt work—which was why he happily left those tasks to Lin at first, Mai later, and now, anyone else in the office, but mainly Chiaki and Takahashi-san. It was such a thankless job, he thought, taking the student files from the priestess and nodding. He wondered if the woman wasn't exacting some sort of revenge on him for all the times he never said a word of praise to his staff. He grit his teeth, plastered a fake smile on his face, and said, "Right away, Matsuzaki-sensei."

"I appreciate it. Oh, and Taniyama-san has emailed me asking to set up an appointment with me sometime in the near future. See to it that I have her file and email her a date and time. Maybe I have time later?"

He glared at Ayako for a split second, but said, "Yes, Matsuzaki-sensei. I'll have it for you upon your return. I do recall that you have time later on this afternoon for a meeting."

Nodding, Ayako swept out of the Staff Room, laughing inwardly. Oh, the wrath she was incurring! But he couldn't do anything because they had roles to play: she was the counselor and he was the intern that was working with her for school credit. A few seconds later, Naru also left the Staff Room, heading towards Hirata's office; he found himself stopping occasionally to make small talk with students—something he absolutely hated, but had no choice in the matter. To be honest, Naru had never understood the reasoning behind small talk. It was such a waste of time. Especially when talk concerned movies and such; he'd already been asked to give an opinion on _Haven,_ an American show—he'd never seen it but it sounded interesting; how did he feel about Japan's Pop-Princess Ayumi Hamasaki—he liked a few of her songs and his girlfriend was a fan (and ironically, the word 'girlfriend' caused more gasps than his original admission)—Ayumi Hamasaki versus Koda Kumi—he didn't care and was up front and honest about that, and he'd been asked his opinion on the drama Box R, and didn't he think that Mogami Kyouko was a phenomenal actress? He sincerely didn't know. She hadn't been acting when shadowing the S.P.R. group, but he wasn't going to tell the kids that. Still, thanks to Chiaki, he was more up-to-date, but he was still a long way away from being 'cool' as Yasuhara put it. Speaking of Chiaki, he needed to call her tonight. He was lonely without her.

"Oh, Shibuya-san! Shibuya-san!"

Naru stopped and inwardly groaned. _Again? What now?_ He turned to the students. "Yes?"

"Shibuya-san, don't you think that Tsuruga Ren is the most talented actor in Japan?"

Naru could feel a headache coming on. His opinion of the man wasn't very good. These were the dreaded fan-girls that Mai had once warned him of and he had to tread lightly. "I think Tsuruga-san is a very good actor."

"Doesn't Shibuya-san like Tsuruga-san?"

"Er…" What were these students doing out of class again?

"He's got it all," another girl chimed in. "He's tall, he's _gorgeous_, I _love_ his voice—it's so _sexy_," she gushed. "Plus there isn't any role he can't do. Cloudy Moon has actually managed to surpass its predecessor—"

"I know! And the original was so good. Tsuruga-san surpassed Kuu Hizuri! Isn't Tsuruga-san just _dreamy_ Shibuya-san?"

Actually, the man was a massive pain-in-the-ass. "Er… my what _are _you ladies doing out of class? Do I need give you detention?"

"Shibuya-san is an intern and therefore can't," one of the girls said with a madden superiority.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to escort you ladies to Vice-Principal Hirata and let you all explain to her why you all are not in class." He put his hand on one shoulder. "This way ladies."

The girl in his hold shimmied away and joined her friend down the hallway looking at her watch. "What a coincidence. We need to get back to class! It was good talking to you, Shibuya-san! Don't forget to try the Ramen Stall on the outskirts of the village! Let's go," she said, hauling he friend back in the direction of the class.

Naru sighed and continued walking, hoping that he wasn't accosted again. That conversation had been just shy of painful. Finally he came to Hirata's office—the trip that would have taken Shibuya Kazuya, ghost hunter, two minutes, took Shibuya Kazuya intern fifteen minutes. The lights in Hirata's office were on, but the place itself was empty. That would have struck him as odd, but he could hear the vice principal talking with another teacher a few hallways down. What did strike Naru as odd was the sizeable distance between Hashimoto and Hirata's offices. Wasn't it customary to have the Vice Principal's office close to your own, if only for expediency? It was almost like Hashimoto wanted Hirata as far away from him as humanly possible.

And if that was the case, then why?

Listening intently to the vice principal's voice he decided that she wasn't going to return right that second. Whatever was being discussed was obviously important. Mumbling a 'please excuse my intrusion,' he entered the office and just stood there for a second, looking around. The plethora of books concerning witchcraft, paganism, and Wiccan religion surprised him. The vice principal didn't strike him as someone who practiced Wicca. He looked to the side and got a start when he realized that he recognized some of those titles. _What in the world was she doing with these books,_ he wondered, approaching one shelf and running his finger down one book's spine. The jolt and picture of a pretty American surprised him and he frowned. These books didn't belong to Hirata—so why would she keep them? Why not give them back to the student or person they belonged to?

A nasty thought crossed his mind as he stepped away from the books to the desk. Maybe she couldn't return them for whatever reason. The bookshelf behind the desk was another shock. He didn't recognize any of these, but recognized the goddess they detailed. Puzzle pieces were starting to click together in his mind as he placed the files on the desk (errand done) and stepped around the desk to get a better look at the tomes. Bending down, he saw that some of the books were the same that the late Sakauchi-san had owned. _Curiouser and curiouser,_ he thought, bracing his hand against the desk drawer and leaning in for another inspection. Perhaps there were more books he was familiar with.

He never got the chance to explore that. The desk drawer he leaned against gave him a brief and wholly unexpected flash and he turned back to the desk. There was something there and it was important. Important enough that he could _feel_ it vibrating. A few paper clips later and Naru was lifting an object wrapped in frayed black silk out. The silk masked any concrete visions so he really couldn't tell what it was just by touch. It could be anything, he mused, weighing it in his hand. It was fairly dense, he thought and he was just itching to open the silk and take a peek. But that would have to wait, he decided stuffing the parcel into his breast pocket and quickly relocking the drawer.

_Noll, hurry, she's on her way back._

Gene needn't have bothered. Naru had already heard her footfalls as she walked back to her office. Hanging around meant having to talk again and he was averse to doing so. Leaving a brief note on top of the files, he left the office and was on his way. It was time for a conference, he decided.

….

While Naru poked around in Hirata's office, Ayako frowned fiercely at the principal who dodged every last question, making the priestess wonder if he wasn't a lawyer of some sort underneath that principal exterior. Taking a breath, Ayako decided to try again.

"Look, Hashimoto-sensei, you've got to come clean with me. If you don't, Naru will pull us from this case. You're looking for something beyond black magic, right? Especially because you already know who's casting these spells, don't you?" Still receiving no answer, Ayako went on, "why did you really call us here?"

"To find the students practicing black magic," he answered succinctly.

"But there _are_ no students practicing black magic—dead or alive," the priestess retorted, agitatedly crossing and uncrossing her legs. "_None_ of your students have any magical abilities at all." What she'd said just hit her and she glared at the principal. "But you know, you might have a dead student here who practices magic." Her eyes roamed around and resting on a peculiar statue. Curious. "In fact," Ayako continued, going with the radical thought that just popped into her head, "you called us out here because you yourself can't find whomever it is that's really doing this, isn't that right?"

Hashimoto stayed silent and instead focused on something else entirely.

"Look, pal," Ayako tried again. "We're not your employees, you know."

Now the principal looked up, a strange light in his eyes. "Actually, Matsuzaki-_sensei_, until you've completed your objective here, you all _are_ in my employ. You'd do well to remember that, I think. You're looking for kids practicing black magic. Now good day to you."

Glowering, the priestess rose from her seat. "That's okay, you don't have to tell me. I'm sure you'll tell Naru or Lin-san. In fact, between the two of them—or Mai, we'll find out whether you say anything or not." Now she smirked. "And if we put the pieces together before you come clean with us, Naru might decide to just pull us completely. Think about that," she finished, nodding in satisfaction at his startled look. "What? You thought Naru was a pushover? Think again. If there's one thing I can tell you about that young man is that he's no pushover."

….

_Later that day…_

Ayako leaned back and looked up at the clock. It was time, or nearly so, to call it a day. Standing, she stretched, feeling her back slide back into alignment with creaks and pops before she collected her belongings and locked up what she didn't need.

"Come on, kid," she called to Naru who was hip deep in whatever research he was working on. "I promised the school I'd feed you."

"Aww, Matsuazki-sensei! You do care!"

Ayako paused. That sounded so like Yasuhara that it was freaky. She looked at Naru suspiciously, wondering if he'd brought the bespectacled ghost hunter with him, or if he'd mimicked him. His eyes laughed at her, but other wise, his face gave nothing away.

"You shouldn't mimic your classmate, Shibuya-kun. It's downright creepy and I still reserve the right to ship you back to the college."

"You'd miss me, though."

"The jury's still out on that one." She sighed. "Do you have any preferences for a meal? Preferably one that doesn't cost an arm and a leg?"

"The students were raving to me about a ramen stall just on the outskirts of town." Naru shrugged. "It's a weekend and the gates will stay open until Sunday evening."

_Bachelors,_ Ayako decided. She'd have to make sure she and Chiaki remedied that and soon. They left the office and peeked in on the teacher staff room. "Lin-sensei," Ayako said with some surprise and Lin looked up at her. "I thought you'd be gone until Sunday."

The teacher shook his head. "Too much work, I'm afraid."

"Have you eaten?"

Again he shook his head, wishing they'd go and leave him in peace.

"Then why don't you join us? We're going to a ramen stall that's on the outskirts of town."

"Thank you, but I'll get something from the cafeteria," Lin responded vaguely.

"Cafeteria's closed," Naru told him succinctly.

Lin's head shot up. "What?" he asked alarmed. He looked up at the clock and groaned. "No way it's that late," he muttered.

"Come on, Lin-sensei. You have to eat," Ayako said firmly. "It's just ramen. Neither of us will jump your bones, although, the fact that you're single and straight, more's the pity."

Naru scooted away from the guidance counselor and looked at her askance. "I actually don't know her."

Lin quirked his lips into a small smile. "I'm sure you don't. Let me lock my stuff up and I'll meet you two."

Ayako nodded. "An excellent choice. We newbies have to stick together."

…

Mai considered the menu and rubbed her eyes, trying to decide. The pork ramen sounded delicious, but she also wanted the pot stickers. _Maybe I'll just go with beef ramen,_ she thought.

She started and whirled when a hand gripped her shoulder. She expected to see classmates, instead she saw the last three people she expected to see. "Lin-sensei? Matsuzaki-sensei? Shibuya-san? What are you all doing here?"

"The same as you," Naru said.

Mai flushed red. "Obviously," she mumbled, peeking at Lin-sensei who pretended not to hear. How mortifying—and in front of her teacher, no less!

"Don't listen to him, Taniyama-san. Have you ordered?" Ayako asked, giving her assistant a nasty look.

"Oh. No, not yet."

"Then why don't you join us."

"Oh… but… I was just going to get mine to-go. I still have a lot of class work to catch up on."

"Speaking of, how are you feeling?" Lin asked, speaking up for the first time.

Mai offered him a wan and slightly beleaguered smile. "I'm doing much better. Junko-sensei said that it was altitude sickness. I am very sorry I was unable to make it to class, but thank you for gathering my assignments."

Lin shrugged. "Your health must come first, Taniyama-san." Pausing, he ventured, "Were you able to contact your father and tell him of what happened?"

A grimace cleverly disguised the twinge in her heart. "Oh yes. I was able to contact him and I received every response on the spectrum." Mai rolled her eyes.

"He has every right to be concerned," Lin told her sternly.

"I know. I do. I just… wish he weren't so… dramatic. Apparently, I take after my mother," she finished ruefully.

When she finished speaking, it was their turn in line. "Order whatever," Ayako said. "It's my treat. As I told Lin-sensei, we newbies have to stick together."

"Oh, but…I simply can't let you do that," Mai retorted, scandalized.

"I'm insisting. Besides, you shouldn't walk back alone."

Unable to see any way out of it, she ordered the beef ramen and an order of potstickers. She would pay Matsuzaki-sensei back as soon as she was able to sneak money into the woman's desk. Maybe Shibuya-san could help her there. When their orders came, Mai noticed that Shibuya and Lin-sensei had ordered the vegetable ramen and looked at them quizzically. "Do Lin-sensei and Shibuya-san not eat meat?"

"Not normally, I don't," Lin replied, grabbing the tray and leading the way to a secluded table but still allowed for them to be seen. They couldn't talk just yet; there were students from the school still eating and loitering. When they were gone and they'd have to leave at some point, they would talk.

For the time being, they ate their meals and made small talk, mainly classes and tips on how to adjust to the unfamiliar city, altitude, and people in general. Just new people eating together—a serendipitous meeting. When the area was practically customer clear save for some locals that paid the party of four no mind, they shed their guises and got down to business. Ayako went first.

"I'll make mine short and sweet. I got nothing out of the principal, absolutely nothing. Each question was dodged. Next time, Naru, I think you ought to talk to him. He'll probably be more apt to answer your questions. I do hate, however, that he was right about us being in his employ."

"I'm not having very much luck, either. I think Mai's right: we're not looking for kids dealing with black magic—we're looking for a ghost that's got some major power on its side. I did, however, overhear something interesting in the staff room today."

…

_Earlier…_

_ "So the new guy can actually teach?" Akinata-sensei asked, glancing at Lin._

_ "Sure can," Tachibana-sensei answered. _

_ Lin pretended to be absorbed in his work and ignored them, but he did jot down their names: Akinata and Tachibana. He wondered what subjects they taught._

_ "Nice to actually have someone who can teach. Amano doesn't know one way of her ass to the other and teaches the same."_

_ "Yeah, well. She and the vice-principal are best friends. You know how that goes."_

_ "Sadly," the other commented. "I heard a rumor that she and the vice-principal were responsible for a student's death."_

_ "No way," Tachibana said immediately, going over to the door—free time was over for them. "They'd lose their jobs if that were the case."_

_ "Who said they were __**teachers**__ when it happened?" Akinata commented, following the other out._

…

"They were responsible for someone's death?" Naru asked, his mind already putting the pieces together. "That makes sense. We know that there's a ghost operating with a high degree of power."

"She does have a patron goddess on her side," Mai commented. "My day was rather productive: I was visited by Melissa herself and she wants us to find her body."

"Is that all?" Naru asked, looking at her closely.

"No, I also had a dream where I was Melissa. She was exorcized when she wasn't possessed—but I've told you that. From what I gleaned from this newest dream is that it was a big scandal back in Savannah. You might want to see if Chamberlin-san can help us with that. Maybe he has contacts in Savannah that could tell him about the case? Either way. What I also got was that Melissa knew she was going to die here in Japan—apparently The Morrigan told her as much, although that really didn't come through in so many words. I got… the overwhelming feeling that she was murdered on school grounds. What Lin said might actually confirm that," Mai finished. "Naru?"

"When Matsuzaki-san sent me to Hirata's office to drop off some paper work and what not, I did some snooping and found something." He fished out the wrapped parcel out of his pocket, showing it to them.

…

The office of the New York Police Commissioner was best described as understated intimidation. It was designed to look like the casual meeting place—but the man that inhabited that office… made the space daunting, just like his father before him had. Danny had known his father his entire life, and as his father liked to say he'd known his son before he was even born. Inside that office was not the father that Danny had known his entire life; he was Frank Regan the Police Commissioner and the top-cop of New York. Danny and Jackie knew all too well that being invited into this office was anything but a social call. This was building a case against a sick son of a bitch and putting him away for murders in just about every state in the US, New York included. And that was just the United States. Who knew what he was wanted for in the other countries he'd visited.

"Given the fact that the girls had no records of larceny—really, any sort of records as trouble makers except for two who had trouble in school by getting into fights—the families—those that had families and weren't wards of the states— simply couldn't understand how the girls got the shoes from the museums in the first place. We re-interviewed the museum curators, staff, and security personnel and they couldn't understand how the shoes were taken either."

"There was, however, one person who knew what was going on," Jackie said, picking up the narrative. "Samuel McLaughlin knew what was going on because he knew the victims. In fact, the victims approached him before they died—we have cameras in the hotel lobbies confirming this. We asked the people on duty who those girls asked for and despite their reticence to answer, they finally told us that all the girls asked for Samuel McLaughlin."

"What a coincidence. Do we know why they asked for him?"

Danny shook his head. "No sir. And the girls aren't alive to answer that question, either. Privacy laws also forbid us from having cameras and audio in the rooms, but the clerks at the desk did say that the girls left in extreme agitation and resignation. Almost like they knew something big and bad was going to happen, but didn't know what to do about it," Danny finished. "McLaughlin knew, however, that's something we can be certain about and the fact that those girls visited him at his hotel tells us that McLauglin knew it, too."

Frank pursed his lips. "I'll bet Miss Taniyama in Japan knows what the girls visited McLaughlin about."

Danny looked surprised. "I thought we were tentatively sure that she wasn't going to die."

"We are," Frank affirmed. "But McLaughlin doesn't know that. Whatever gambit he tried on the girls here and in other states-slash-countries, I'll bet he tried with Miss Taniyama. If we can find out what that was…" The Commissioner shook his head. "It's just too damn bad that the man's not on U.S. soil right now," Frank said, drumming his fingers and avoiding the pictures that were spilled across his desk. The dead, captured on film when they were alive—there was a macabre poignancy scattered about, life beaming up when death held them ever close.

"Speaking of that, McLaughlin might be returning sooner than he thinks," Danny said casually.

Too casually for it to be anything but an attention-grabber; it worked beautifully as the Commissioner speared his son with one look and a shark's smile—the smile that informed Danny that he'd better have something good with that statement. "And what does that mean, detective?"

Reaching into his breast pocket, Danny pulled out a few sheets of paper and handed them over to the Commissioner. Taking them, Frank put them down on his desk and pulled out his glasses, beginning to read. Danny said, "It's translated, so it's not perfect, but the gist of it is the shoes and the victims they've collected over the years; there's speculation on the aim of what a ghost named 'Annabelle' that's haunting the shoes ultimately wants. The person who wrote the article is a syndicated columnist for the Tokyo Newspaper. She's been doing a segment about psychic research and the people involved in the subject—sort of like Harry Houdini who worked to debunk those who called themselves psychic."

Danny gestured to the papers and continued, "_Her_ story is interesting. She actually had a problem and needed the help of a psychic research facility to help her solve it. That's how she was able to debunk most of the companies that she's investigated—all except for one: the one where Miss Taniyama works. In return for their services, the company… S.P.R.?" He consulted his notes and nodded to himself. "Yeah, S.P.R. asked this particular columnist to do a segment about the shoes and she did. The collection was supposed to show at other museums around Japan, but when the article was run… the museums got wind of it and decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to host a collection that was collecting lives—Japan being much more superstitious than America. The Tokyo National Museum in particular was horrified and they began to pack it up immediately. Detective Hirota, one of the guys we talked to not long ago was able to get the shoes before they were packed up—and McLaughlin arrived at the museum just as they were finishing up, so he has no idea that the shoes _aren't_ leaving Japan when the rest of his collection does. Where the collection goes, minus the shoes, McLaughlin has to follow, right?"

"Which means back to the United States," Frank summarized. "Do we know when he's due back?"

"Not yet. But another interesting tidbit: while I was at home Sunday, I received a call from Jeffrey Smith. He wants to talk about a deal."

"What do you think he knows?"

Danny looked at his partner and Jackie took this as her cue. "Sir, we believe that Smith knew what was going on but due to the terms of employment was unable to say anything, much less do anything. It's speculation, but… we… I think that seeing his son after all these years was a massive shock and I think he wants a chance to talk to the younger man. In exchange for giving up McLaughlin and telling us all he knows about the whole sordid affair, he wants to stay in Japan for a week longer to talk to his son before returning home and facing the piper."

Fran nodded. "Get in touch with him, Detectives. Find out what he wants and if its possible to make happen." He gestured to the pictures on his desk, life caught on film. "I want this rat bastard. And I want him bad."

…

Telling the computer to 'print,' Kyouya sat back and stretched. He decided for an early rough draft what he'd written was acceptable. Glancing at the newest email from the teacher, his lip curled in disdain and he finally reached for his phone to text the news to Taniyama, no, Mai-san. There was an addendum to the project: Putting yourself in your partners shoes, what, if anything would you do differently? That was harder because he'd have to ask Mai-san to tell him about that day in detail, especially since she was writing about how she'd earned her job at Shibuya Psychic Research.

He wanted to call Michinaga-sensei an inconsistent teacher. In truth, however, Kyouya enjoyed the man's classes because they made him think beyond the realm of normal answers x-plus-y-equals-z. Really, the question he'd given the class was generic—a what if scenario that was rather boring until the person with that question actually started to _think_. Mai's question had definitely made him think. What _would_ he do if he had to create a future for himself? Deciding that he was hungry, he stood and left his suite and traveled to the kitchen. Looking around, he didn't see any of the cooks, and that was odd. He didn't remember it being their day off. His stomach rumbled and he shrugged; he just wanted something simple, anyhow. Having four star chefs on payroll was fine and dandy, but he wasn't in the mood for a feast and really, there was no one around to make anything for him—he was on his own; he smiled cynically that his 'what if scenario' seemed to be playing out on a smaller scale. His stomach complained again; a sandwich would do, he decided. He cocked his head to the side, perplexed. How hard could it be to make a sandwich? He thought that Haruhi could make one easily, but then she'd been a commoner—she'd _had_ to know how to make her own food because her father wasn't there most of the time. His brow furrowed. Mai was also a commoner _and_ an orphan; she would definitely know how to make a sandwich—surely she could give him pointers…

Pride in his intelligence put a stop to that. He could figure it out without his phone (which he'd left in his room anyways) or wherever his chef was. Logically, it was bread, meats, cheese, and other condiments. He looked around the massive kitchen blankly, having never set foot inside it before. Where _were_ those ingredients? He glanced at the miniature computer that was discreetly attached to the wall to his right; he could look them up. The cooks had to catalogue everything so they knew what to order, so whatever he needed would be there and where it was located. There were recipes there, too, he knew.

…And how pathetic would that make him? Kyouya wondered, now glaring at the computer. He lived in this house—he was a member of the family that owned it and everything in it. He looked around the kitchen with a sort of panic when he realized that he knew nothing about anything. He knew peripherally after watching Haruhi for so long what a frying pan was, but it baffled him to see so many sizes! Half the utensils that he saw scared him because he didn't know what they were there for or how to use them. His stomach rumbled and he decided to stop wasting time lamenting that he knew where nothing was; he was smart, he could look—like Mai-san had said: what if he wasn't declared as his father's successor and he had to make his own way in the world? Taking a deep breath, he approached on stainless steel appliance and opened the door. A small smile lit his face. He'd found a few of the ingredients. Grabbing them, he pulled them out and opened another door. Flinching, he shut it quickly. Freezer—nothing he needed for a sandwich would be in there. He continued his explorations, mentally cataloguing his finds and where they were in case he ever needed to make something for himself. When his father and the Ootori head chef walked into the kitchen an hour later, Kyouya was putting the finishing touches on a sandwich that he'd put together all by himself and was smiling madly; the chef wondered if the boy realized he was grinning like a loon.

"Kyouya-sama!" the chef cried, scandalized that the boy was in his kitchen.

The bespectacled boy looked up. "Oh, Jacques-san." His smile dimmed, disappeared, and was replaced with something very conservative and polite. "Father. Welcome home; I didn't realize your were coming back so early. I didn't make too much of a mess, Jacques-san."

Jacques looked around. Indeed, the boy hadn't made much of a mess at all. Some of the ingredients were still out, but they were the condiments and would keep. Whatever else the young man had used had been put away. There were tomato seeds and the juice still on the cutting board and a knife dirty from cutting said fruit, but beyond that, the kitchen was mint condition. Nothing at all like what Kyouya-sama's oldest brother had once done and the repairs needed to cover the disaster up. Nevertheless… the young master of the house shouldn't have had to make his own meal.

"Kyouya-sama, I am deeply sorry that I wasn't here to make you something."

Kyouya shrugged. "I managed just fine. It was good for me to find my own way around the kitchen."

"Why didn't you call for one of the other chefs?" his father asked, watching slightly amazed as his youngest son reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small plate.

The boy shrugged, putting the sandwich on the plate and taking some napkins, too. "What was the point? I made the sandwich as I wanted and it took less time for me to do that than to call one of the cooks, tell him what I wanted, when frankly, I didn't know what I wanted in the sandwich in the first place. Besides, Father, it was an adventure to make something for myself." Picking up his accomplishment, Kyouya bowed to the two men. "If you'll both excuse me, I have some work to continue."

"Your paper, right?" his father asked.

Kyouya wasn't surprised that his father knew about it. He'd long since thought that someone in his classes—mainly those he'd gone to high school with and shared college classes with—informed his father of his every move. "Yes, sir."

"How is it going?"

"It's coming along just fine, Father. I'm pleased with my first draft."

"And your partner? Is your partner also working as avidly as you?"

Kyouya considered. "I don't know, to tell the truth. When I met Taniyama-san to discuss the assignment, she mentioned that she was leaving town on business."

"Business? What business?" the man asked sharply. "What kind of business does a college student have that takes them out of town?"

Kyouya swallowed a grin with his bite of food. Ah, so his father _didn't_ know that. Nor did he know whom his youngest son was supposed to be working with. After all, Michinaga-sensei had drawn the names from a hat and put the names on their respective partner's desks, leaving the students to find their partners. While father and son squared off, Jacques took this as his cue to start cleaning what little mess his master's son had created. All-in-all, he was impressed that not only had Master Kyouya managed to find the ingredients, he'd managed to put them back in the proper place—without looking at the computer which hadn't been turned on. He smiled to himself. Of all his employers sons, Master Kyouya was truly the most accomplished; the other two… if they could break an egg into a bowl without it ending in disaster, he'd eat his chefs hat. As soon as the kitchen was clean, he would, per the elder Ootori's orders, catalogue everything.

"I don't know what business she's on, Father. All I know is it's a case and she wouldn't discuss the details with me because I don't work for or with Shibuya Psychic Research. I wonder if she's emailed me back, yet?" he asked himself as he took another bite of his sandwich and left the kitchen. Walking back to his rooms, he looked around, noticing perhaps for the first time the wealth that had surrounded him on a daily basis. Understated wealth, old elegance, he thought, a family that clearly had quite a lot of money and showed it off very sedately with marble flooring, glittering chandeliers, priceless antiques strategically placed around the mansion. He'd grown up with it, this wealth and arrogance.

If he were to be named his father's successor, all of this would be his, right down to the fine art pieces and instruments that despite their ages were in pristine condition. And if he wasn't? Learning to make his own meals would become a necessity. He realized that he'd actually participated in creating his own alternative future. What _had_ Taniyama-san done to him, he wondered. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was seriously considering that all his efforts to become his father's heir would be for naught. He knew what she'd done, he realized, coming to a stop and gazing at a precious Faberge egg that dated back to the Russian Czar's, off hand, he didn't remember which one. He continued back to his rooms and settled at his desk again; Mai had given him a healthy dose of realism and potential reality—a reality that she lived every day with its insecurities and maybes. Stuffing the last bite of his sandwich—really, it had been quite good for his first homemade meal all on his own—he cracked his knuckles and got back to work. When Taniyama was back from her case, he would invite her here, he decided, and they'd begin to work on the second phase of the assignment.

Back in the kitchen, the elder Ootori watched his son leave. Shibuya Psychic Research. What kind of company was that? It had to be a scam, he decided. Nevertheless, it didn't hurt for a little bit of intimidation to make this Taniyama understand how important his son's time was. Turning to his head chef he said, "That sandwich looked good. I'd like one, too."

"Of course, sir." Turning, he got the ingredients and began to prepare what Master Kyouya had created—or close to it, since he wasn't a hundred percent sure.

"I should visit this Shibuya Psychic Research soon and make certain that this young lady knows how valuable my son's time is, don't you think?"

Actually, Jacques thought this was a bad idea. There were rumors about the Psychic Research facility. But he said, "Of course, sir."

Because he knew that the older man would do it whether or not it was a good idea. His function was to cook for the family—not to offer any sort of practical advice. He certainly wasn't going to start doing so now.

…

"What is it?" Mai asked in a hushed tone.

"I'm not sure. The silk surrounding it blocks my psychometry. It feels like a book," he said, with a thoughtful frown on his face. Turning to Lin, he presented it the sorcerer. "I think you should be the one to open it."

Steeling himself, Lin reached out and took the parcel from his former student. It couldn't have weighed more than four, maybe five pounds. His Shiki told him it had something to do with magic, but was dormant. Did that mean he ran a risk of reawakening it? He had no choice. If this was something that belonged to the ghost who wanted Mai to find her body, then they needed to take that chance. Meeting Mai's eyes, he smiled just a little and unwrapped the object.

Naru had been right. It was a book. Whispering a charm, he flipped through it. "It's a Book of Shadows," he said.

"That's a spell book, right?" Ayako asked.

"It's more than that," Lin responded, flipping through the pages idly. There were Xeroxed pages shoved against the binding to hold them in place, detailing rituals about major Wiccan holidays; information about The Morrigan—meaning that Mai had been correct when she'd named that particular goddess as the girl's patron deity. "It's a tool that a practicing Wiccan uses on a daily basis. A Book of Shadow contains information about their god or goddess, rituals, and yes, spells. It's also consecrated to that particular practitioner."

"That belonged to Melissa," Mai said quietly, her eyes far away and sad. "Her name's there on the left hand corner of the front cover. She was a lefty, too."

Flipping to the cover Lin saw that she was right about where Melissa's name was; as for what her dominant hand was, he would take her word for it. He looked at Naru who was focused on the book. He could see the wheels literally turning in the young ghost hunter's head.

Things were making a terrible sort of sense. The overheard conversation at the school, the attack on Amano-sensei, the lie that the principal used to get them here—it was starting to make sense. "I'll need to talk to Hashimoto Monday morning," he said, focusing back on the small group.

"We weren't brought here to find kids practicing black magic; we were brought here to find the body of Melissa LaQuis."

"That's right," Naru agreed. "We were. I'd like to confirm that, however. Here's what were going to do—" Before Naru could continue, he was interrupted by Lin's cell phone.

"Excuse me," the sorcerer said, pulling it out and peering at it. Evidently whatever it was shocked him, because Mai immediately asked him what was wrong. "Tsuruga-san texted me and asked me to meet him Sunday morning, barring work."

"That's perfect then," Naru said, his mind changing tactics. "Keep the appointment. Either before or after, go into the office and ask Chamberlin-san to contact someone in Savannah. I want information about Melissa Ann LaQuis. When she was born, what happened to her, how she came to be exorcized, anything he can get his hands on. The sooner the better."

"Yes, sir," Lin said, texting an affirmative back to Tsuruga Ren. "Sunday morning, eleven o'clock. I'll need to make travel arrangements to go back to Shibuya when I get back to the school." Spying some kids in the corner of his eye, he brought their masquerade back into swing saying, "Speaking of work, it's getting late, and Taniyama-san did mention that she still has homework and classwork to complete before Monday. We should return to the school so that she may finish," he said, rising from the table. "Thank you again for the meal, Matsuzaki-sensei. Taniyama-san, you're quite a bit ahead of the classes in both History and English. We'll need to discuss supplemental lessons for you until the rest of the students are caught up."

They began their walk back, discussing what Mai could do until the rest of the class was caught up to her. When they were far enough away from the prying eyes of students who had suddenly appeared for ramen, he wrapped his arm her waist and pulled her close, reluctantly letting her go when they reached the school gates.

…

_Sunday…_

Standing in front of her mirror and caressing the locket, Eri said, "Lin-sensei has returned to Shibuya to see a sick friend." Melissa appeared, looking nonchalant; she shrugged her shoulders. Eri narrowed her eyes at her. "Hey, don't forget. You won't get back to Hashimoto-sensei without me giving him the locket." Eri smiled cruelly. "I want Lin-sensei. I want him to ravish me until I can't see straight anymore. I gave you my word that I'd return you to Hashimoto-sensei if you granted me _my_ wish. Megumi and Yukari already had their wishes, so now it's my turn. Tell me how to do it."

Locking eyes with Eri she mouthed, 'I don't think it will work. He's strong.'

"And you're a ghost with a god on your side. How much stronger can he be than you?"

'I don't know and it troubles me.'

"Look you stupid ghost, start telling me how to create this spell and get me into his room! I didn't go shopping for all these weird ingredients just because I was bored!" Eri shouted, gesturing furiously to the rose petals that littered a large bowl and other various ingredients.

A sigh was seen. 'Very well. But don't blame me if this fails.'

It bothered Melissa because even as a ghost she knew this endeavor was bound to end badly. The Morrigan had warned her not to attempt anything with that man. She had no choice, however. She had a binding contract with the three girls that found her locket in the library. She ignored the call from the grave for her to sleep and mouthed the ingredients and the steps for the potion.

_Shibuya, Dozenga Ward; Dolphin Café…_

Lin entered the Dolphin Café with trepidation; he wasn't exactly sure why Tsuruga-san had contacted him and the man himself, (sitting in the very back corner away from everyone else with a hat over his hair and overly-large, dark sunglasses on) had been quite coy about the nature of their meeting. Lin smirked slightly, noticing that no one even took a second glance at the man—even a basic disguise worked, it seemed. Making his way through the tables scattered around the restaurant he finally reached the booth and slid into the other end. Before he said anything, he removed his coat, whispering a spell that would prevent eavesdropping in all forms. The _last_ thing he needed were photo-ops of him and Tsuruga-san making their way to the papers and worse, social media sites.

"Tsuruga-san, this is an unexpected surprise. It's all right if you decide to remove your hat and glasses—you're not fooling me, anyhow."

Ren smiled, (it was a fake smile, an _actor's smile,_ Lin thought, thinking of Yasuhara donning that same smile as he posed in another's shoes) and peeled off his hat and glasses. When the whispers and cameras didn't start, he looked around, nonplussed. He looked at Lin suspiciously; after all, he'd said something before hadn't he? The man simply shrugged in response. "Must be my lucky day to not be recognized," he muttered.

Lin tilted his head to the side. "You'd prefer no privacy for this meeting of ours?"

The actor would later pick up on exactly what Lin said, but for the moment, Ren almost agreed to what Lin had said, but at the last moment shut his mouth. "No. Anonymity would be good for this chat. Very good, actually," he said, rubbing his hands. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, not at all cool and suave like he normally did on the screen. "Do you mind coffee, Lin-san?"

"Not at all," the sorcerer said easily. "I was up quite early to make it here around eleven, so I'll welcome the caffeine."

The small smile that Ren gave was real this time. "I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you," he offered.

"No you're not, but I thank you for trying to understand. You did, however, make this sound important, so of course I agreed."

Tsuruga leaned on an elbow and looked out the window. "I was surprised when you agreed, truth be told." He slid his eyes to the other man. "I was a bit of an ass the last time."

"That's certainly true," Lin agreed matter-of-factly. He chuckled when he saw the embarrassment on the other man's face. Mogami-san must've given him an earful, he thought mirthfully. At least _one_ person had him in line. "It's in the past, however. Thank you," he said to the waitress as she sat a carafe and two cups down, along with assorted creamers and sugars. "So?" he asked, pouring for both of them.

Ren took his and added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to his. "Official business, first," the actor stated, handing over a portfolio. "This is from President Takarada. When he heard that I set up a meeting with you, he asked me to deliver this."

Curious, the sorcerer took it and opened it, his visible eye going wide. "He can't be serious."

"I've never known Takarada-san to be frivolous. Flamboyant, yes; outrageous, absolutely; dramatic, without a doubt; but never frivolous."

Lin was forced to agree with Tsuruga-san. After all, he was the new owner of the building that SPR operated outside of. A copy of the deed greeted him. Stuck in another pocket was a check attached to a note. He read through it quickly. In short, Takarada-san had purchased the building and was allowing both the café and Shibuya Psychic Research to operate rent-free and utility free. The check was for the damaged cameras and what he thought SPR deserved for their services—and it was quite a large amount—the estimation for the cameras alone was off by quite a lot. Lin shook his head. "Tell him we're grateful. But… Tsuruga-san, I'm curious as to why you contacted _me_."

Ren had a funny smile on his face as he handed over yet another portfolio. Lin sat back and read. It wasn't complicated—in fact, it was the reason that he and Mogami-san had "apprenticed" with them—although shadowing was a better term; they'd been quite useless outside of setting things up. Closing it, he set it down and said, "It doesn't seem particularly complicated. Surely you've had more challenging roles. And the shadowing that the two of you did certainly gave you the basics, right?"

"Yes. But… to be honest Lin-san, I don't really know what a ghost hunter is."

"I don't know what a ghost hunter is, either, Tsuruga-san." Picking up the mug, he took a sip of coffee. "To start, I am not a ghost hunter." He gestured to the script. "And in this role, neither are you. What you are, if you're serious about giving this part your all, is a Paranormal Investigator, or a person who specializes in Paranormal Psychology."

Ah, now that he understood. Shibuya-san had never explained what a ghost hunter was. "That is what, exactly?"

"An individual either alone, or part of a group, that is interested in trying to understand the reasoning behind a haunting. That should be your main focus for the role: the reasoning behind any hauntings. They don't always differ from human reasoning, you know, because ghosts were human once, too."

"Why…how… did you get involved with Paranormal Research?" Ren blurted out.

Lin heard the question, but didn't answer as he looked sharply towards Hanamaki. His attention was solely focused on the massive breech that even a ghost with a patron god couldn't mask.

After a few seconds of silence, Ren reached across the table and waved his palm in front on the Chinese man. "Uh…Lin-san? Lin-san? Are you all right? Lin-san?"

"My wards have been disturbed," he murmured, looking beyond the restaurant.

_Eh? What did that mean, _Ren wondered, staring at the Chinese man and seeing him in an entirely new light. He looked around at the people that seemed oblivious to his presence even though he sat there in broad daylight without anything to hide his features. He'd thought that Lin-san had said something as he removed his coat, but at that time assured himself that he was mistaken. Surely, if Lin-san had said something to him, he'd have heard him. But what if Lin-san _had_ said something but it wasn't meant for him to _hear_? Come to think of it, back at the haunted set, they had stayed in the base room until the ice storm had abated and Lin had gone with the others to gather their supplies. Why was that? Perhaps there was more to this man besides suits, ties, and computer skills. He sat back and waited for the man to return from wherever he was right now.

That damn ghost, Lin grated. How dare she help that stupid student! However, she most likely hadn't had a choice. He settled his Shiki and bade them to repair the damage done to his wards. It would do until he knew what else awaited him—and he was beyond certain that Tezuka-san had something planned. He hadn't missed the long smoldering looks she'd sent his way in class. Well, he'd taken his own precautions. He dared to believe that Monday morning would be interesting indeed. He returned to the present with a patient if not baffled Ren.

"My apologies, Tsuruga-san."

"No need." Ren gave him a considering look. "You were going to tell me how you got involved in psychic research."

"Yes, I suppose I could do that. I joined the British Society of Psychic Research because I was curious and had something to contribute." He gestured to the script. "Why has your character become a paranormal researcher? And is that what he does for a full time occupation?"

"He has to, or else no one will think he's serious."

Lin nodded; that was acceptable. He was rapidly beginning to understand one part of _why_ Tsuruga Ren had contacted him. Between him and Naru, he was the easier person to talk to. His eyes strayed back to the script. The other half probably had something to do with the romance of it. But why? He'd done wonderfully well in _Dark Moon_ as Katsuki. He suspected he'd find out soon enough. Taking another sip of coffee he said again, "But why did _your_ character get involved in paranormal research?"

"Wasn't he curious?" Ren asked.

"Was he?" Lin considered and took another mouthful. "He could be. But that's only a foot in the door. Why is he still involved with it, instead of walking away and calling it lunacy?"

"He might be skeptical."

"Could be. There are some people who join psychic research to debunk. And I'll tell you a boring fact, Tsuruga-san. Ninety-eight percent of all the cases that come our way do not deal with ghosts or something paranormal. The case that brought Mai into our lives is one such example."

"In the end, if it wasn't something paranormal then what was it?" Ren asked, fascinated despite himself.

"Land subsidence. An old abandoned building sinking into dry earth and little by little, becoming unable to support its own weight. It did, however, cause some worthy poltergeist effects until it finally collapsed. Boring, no? Truthfully, Naru refused the case twice because he was positive that the school wasn't dealing with anything more vicious than rumors, and he was right about the older school building. With an overwhelming amount of cases that don't deal with ghosts, it's easy to see why some people join this field to disprove so-called ghosts. One percent of our cases deal with poltergeist activity caused by humans: usually preteens up to around eighteen or nineteen—in other words, puberty ages. And the rare other one percent actually deal with ghosts. The Morishita case, as we tried to show you and Mogami-san, if you'll recall: Naru showed you our temperature gauges taken at different times. The varying temperatures the two of you saw—when ghosts are near, they generate cold because they're no longer amongst the living." He looked into his coffee cup before looking back up at his companion. "Ayami-chan's room fell from twenty-three degrees Celsius to minus nineteen in the space of seconds. Those are the cases that Naru and I look for and hope for. It's not a glamorous life and certainly, it's frustrating and often times dull. But that one rare percentage…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Your character, Tsuruga-san, feels like he's been in the game for too long for being a skeptic."

"You're right," Ren agreed, abruptly brought back to reality when Lin ended his short monologue.

Lin refilled his coffee cup. "But that's not the only thing bothering you, is it? After all, you contacted _me_ and not Naru. It's got something to do with Mogami-san, doesn't it?"

Ren looked at Lin and frowned. Did anything get by this man, he wondered. Probably not.

Lin continued, "Mogami-san also shadowed us, so that means she's probably playing the lead female role and if I'm not mistaken, there's going to be an element of romance, isn't there? And on top of all that, you're in love with her for real."

"How did you figure that out?" he groused.

Lin blinked. "You honestly thought that was a secret? Probably the only person who hasn't figured it out is Mogami-san herself. But I'm starting to understand why you called me."

Well, now that he'd been figured out, there was no need to for charades. He laid it all out succinctly: the age gap between him and Mogami; his real identity, touching briefly on his horrible past; Mogami's mother who'd discarded her like yesterday's trash and later being given the boot by Fuwa Sho. By the time Ren had finished, the coffee was gone and Lin was flagging down their server for more. The Chinese man waited until it arrived before speaking.

Lin thought for a moment, taking a few sips of coffee before speaking. He was going to be flying on caffeine tonight that was for sure. But for whatever that girl had planned, he'd take his chances. He sifted through the information that Tsuruga Ren had given him and said, "That's quite a long list you've given me. Regarding your past and your right to love and be happy… if bullshit helps you sleep at night, have at it," he said with a shrug.

Ren's eyes widened; he clearly hadn't been expecting _that._ "I'm sorry?"

"We've all done things we're not proud of. I don't know the entirety of the situation, but I'm willing to bet that the other party provoked you. It's not an excuse, just a third-hand observation," he commented, holding up a hand to forestall any denials. "What I can tell you is this: the longer you hold on to it, the more it will burden you. My advice to you regarding this matter is to accept what happened, learn from it, and move on. It's a valuable lesson, not a useful burden, and at this point, you're the only one who can forgive yourself."

Ren turned to stare out the window again and said in a voice barely audible, "His lover probably wouldn't."

"That's _her_ problem, not yours. But my estimation says that even if she doesn't want to admit it, she's as guilty as you are for _not_ trying to diffuse the situation when she could." Lin glanced at his right hand and flexed it a couple of times. "You were a convenient scapegoat, I think." Ren noticed the other man's attention to his other hand. "Don't tell me that someone like you nearly killed someone."

"As a matter of fact," Lin replied, flexing his hands again and remembering Samuel McLaughlin as he clawed at it and struggled against his fury-induced hold.

"No way," Ren denied.

The sorcerer shrugged, not really caring if the younger man believed him or not. He moved on. "Mogami-san's abandonment issues… I won't touch that subject; it's not my business and I can't help her through that, being left behind is a difficult thing to overcome," he commented, thinking of Mai and how nonchalant she was about being an orphan. But she'd had _years_ to work through it and she'd had people help her, too, he was sure. Mogami-san he wasn't sure and it was better if he stayed out of it. "You might try to find a therapist for her later on. But, Tsuruga-san, I believe your real issue is the age difference you outlined for me, correct?"

Well what the hell, he'd already been found out. "Yes."

Lin nodded taking another sip of coffee.

"I'm four years older than Mogami-san."

The coffee he'd just sipped slammed down the wrong tube as the actor told him that. Setting the coffee down, he coughed to clear his lungs, waving away any assistance as the younger man stood, alarmed.

_Four years,_ he thought, coughing_. Four damned years?! He's kidding, right? If there were only four years between Mai and me…_ he let that thought trail off. "Four years," he managed, his voice rough. "_That_ is your biggest dilemma?"

The actor stayed silent and Lin sat back after his hacking fit, marveling the younger man's idiocy.

"You're an idiot," the sorcerer spat. "Four years is _nothing._ There's at least a dozen years between Mai and myself. We make it work. I don't understand why you allow _four years_ to impede you."

"But that's just it," Ren said, and Lin saw the torment beneath the façade. "How do you do it? How do you two manage a relationship? How did it even start?"

How many times was he required to recount this story? "SPR was called back to Mai's school again to solve a lust spell. Naru asked me to protect Mai which is the start of it all, I guess." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Too late we realized that the ones I needed to protect her from were her own coworkers. There'd been a tentative relationship that started with a case somewhere around Suwa and it began to further develop while we were at her school again…" Lin trailed off, shaking his head and taking another sip of coffee. "And to make a long story short, after we'd gotten rid of the curse, I asked Mai if she wanted things to go back to 'Lin-san' and 'Taniyama-san' and she said no. And here we are."

"The age difference doesn't bother her?"

"Obviously not. I don't think it ever did."

"But it bothered you?"

At first it had. Up until a few weeks ago, Lin had always harbored a secret fear that Mai would show up at the office with a new boyfriend in tow; he would be someone younger and more communicative than he was, his polar opposite as a person. He still retained a small shadow of fear. "It used to," he admitted. "I wondered sometimes what was wrong with me to be in a relationship, to even _think_ of pursuing a relationship with a person who was at least ten years my junior. Could I make her happy? Was I trying to compensate for something? More importantly, why was _I_ good enough for her as a boyfriend? Understand, I have confidence in myself to keep the other sex very happy, but being in a long-term relationship? I'd never done that before and truthfully, the thought of being in one at first scared me." Lin smiled wistfully at a memory. "I used to have this fear that one day Mai would show up with a younger man and announce that he was her new boyfriend and leave me in the dust—that haunted my waking moments and dreams in the first three or four months of our relationship." He shrugged. "That, thankfully, never came to pass, but one day a young man _did_ show up saying he _was_ her boyfriend; Mai simply introduced him to me her _real_ boyfriend. She was quite smug about that, especially when the young man just looked so…shattered at our first and only meeting."

Ren wondered if Lin-san knew he was smirking at that recollection.

Lin picked up is coffee cup and polished off the lukewarm liquid before sliding out of the booth and throwing a few bills down. "Thank you for the coffee break. It was a welcome distraction. But now I need to return."

"Thank _you_, Lin-san."

Lin nodded, deciding not to dwell on the fact that the other man still looked miserable. "Tsurgua-san, I can't advice you more than I have, I'm afraid. Love is a double-edged sword—wonderful and terrible all at the same time."

"I don't even know if she sees me as a man," Ren blurted out, seemingly ignoring the fact that Lin was trying to leave. "She walked in on me in the shower and didn't bat an eyelash!"

Thinking on what he'd seen of the girl, he found it hard to believe that she'd be able to walk in on a man in a shower, and not have any sort of reaction. His brow furrowed. Then again, Mogami-san was a talented new actress. Perhaps… Lin thought, sliding back into the booth, she was performing in a role? A family member role might not care… Following this train of thought, he asked, "Was she by chance performing as a family member of sorts?"

Ren nodded. "She was performing as Setsuka Heel, the sister of Cain Heel…" he trailed off, shutting his mouth. He'd given his word he'd tell no one that he'd been the actor to play B.J. in newest thriller.

Lin took that into stride. He wasn't surprised that the younger man had played a serial killer in the latest movie. He knew that Naru and Chiaki had seen it and enjoyed it.

"If she was performing in the capacity of a 'sister' then walking in on her 'brother' in the shower isn't something that would faze her because it wouldn't faze her character. Surely you took that into account, yes?"

Ren opened his mouth to say that 'of course he had,' but the truth of it was, he hadn't—that hadn't even entered in his mind. Hoping that the other man didn't have anything more troubling him, Lin stood again.

"Thanks again for the coffee."

"No problem," Ren replied, handing the bills back to the Chinese man with a small frown. "And thank you very much for your time and the insights you've given me. May I contact you again, Lin-san?"

"If you feel that you need to, by all means."

"You really do love her, don't you?" Ren asked out of the blue.

"More than I ever thought I'd ever love any one person." He chuckled. "It's truly terrifying when I think about it." He gave the younger man a small smile and held out his hand. "Good luck to you, Tsuruga-san."

Taking it, Ren shook it briefly. "By the way, Lin-san, how long will your spell here last?"

His smile got a bit larger. "Put your disguise back on, Tsuruga-san. It will wear off the second I'm out the door."

"Figures," the younger man grumbled as he donned his hat and too-large-sunglasses. "You could make it last longer, couldn't you?"

"Certainly. But I don't want to expend the energy."

"Because your wards were breeched back wherever you are currently?"

A shadow passed over Lin's face. "That's part of it."

"What's the other part?" Ren asked, leaving several large bills behind with the check that their server had brought.

Now Lin smiled cheekily. "What and miss all your adoring fans?"

He didn't care, Ren realized. _That damned man!_ "Ha," Ren commented dryly, walking out with the man. He looked back inside and he could have sworn he felt _something_ wear off. "I do believe your spell wore off."

"Did it?" Lin asked, heading for the stairs that would lead up to SPR's office.

Ren looked around. No one was taking any notice of him at all. "Never mind." He followed the man up the stairs. "If it's all the same to you, I'd love to stick around until the area's empty."

Lin smiled, truly amused. "If you'd like. I'll be heading back to Hanamaki soon, but I'm sure Madoka can find something for you to do around here."

"Eight o'clock is normally an empty time, wouldn't you say? I mean, people are usually at home getting ready for a night shift or night life and the area's empty."

The sorcerer eyed the actor with apparent pity and sighed. "I need to speak with Chamberlin-san, for a moment then I'll walk you back to your car."

Ren smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Lin-san!"

In the office, Ren chatted with Yasuhara and Chiaki about their studies as Lin spoke briefly with the visiting detective.

"Melissa Ann LaQuis?" said detective repeated, looking to the side and thinking. "Savannah, right?" he asked, before Lin could say anything more.

"I take it you're familiar?"

"Maybe. I was a rookie back in 1984. Didn't actually make detective until '87, '88, thereabouts. But I remember _hearing_ about it. You couldn't live in Georgia without. The LaQuis family was old and influential. Rumor was that the girl's father married into the family and took over that way, or tried to anyways. All we knew at the time was that Devon LaQuis had somehow gotten his daughter exorcised, and when that didn't work, shipped her off somewhere. Why?" the detective asked suspiciously.

"We're investigating the school where she most likely disappeared and died."

"You don't say. Son-of-a-fucking-bitch," the Southerner murmured, ignoring Lin's raised brow. Lee sighed. "Let me make some calls and see if I can't get in contact with the detectives who worked that particular case. There's a chance the file still exists. If I get anything, I'll call."

"Please do."

"In the meantime, I know the Savannah PD never solved that case. So if you can solve it, then let me know the results so I can take them back with me to Georgia. The mother, Jennifer, she never found out what happened to her daughter. I think she'd still like to know, even after all this time."

"I'll keep you posted as much as possible," Lin promised.

Lee gave a curt nod and walked off to retrieve his cell phone and make some calls. Lin made his way into Oliver's office and left the portfolio Tsuruga-san had given him on the younger man's desk, before returning to the common room and nodding to the actor. Ren smiled at the trio he'd been talking to.

"I'll probably be seeing you all around. It was good talking to you all."

Chiaki smirked. "That's such a fake smile, Tsuruga-san. You should come over here and just be yourself. Bring Mogami-san with you, too. It'll annoy Naru to no end if we have more people visiting."

Ren raised a brow at the silver-haired girl. "You're talking about your boyfriend, right?"

Chiaki laughed. "What's life without a little annoyance? Have a safe trip back, Tsuruga-san."

"Thank you." Bowing briefly, he followed Lin out of the building and down the stairs. "Does she spend her time trying to think of how to annoy her boyfriend?"

"Nope. The opportunity presents itself naturally. Show up for a social visit and you'll annoy him. It's sadly easy to manage." He stopped at the younger man's car and it seemed so eerie to Ren that this man knew which car was his. "Drive safely."

Smiling, Ren climbed into the car, started it, and rolled the window down. "Good luck to you, Lin-san." Then he drove off.

Lin watched the car until it disappeared from his sight and then chuckled slightly before making his way to the bus stop that would take him to the bullet train station. Before he reached his first destination, a shop caught his eye and he wandered in, wondering why. He wasn't prone to shopping on a whim. But this store… it had such lovely merchandise. It didn't take him long to find something; he hadn't even batted an eyelash at the price. He was on his way again in less than fifteen minutes, mentally preparing himself for what he could expect back at the school.

…

While Lin was meeting with Tsuruga Ren, Mai decided to do something that would normally make her ashamed of herself. She was going to search the room across the hall; her instincts told her that there was something there that she should know about. The problem, she knew, was that she was absolutely convinced that Amano-sensei had something to do Melissa's disappearance and death. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She looked at the diagram she'd created and the reams of articles and what not that she'd printed out. If she ignored the principal's story and focused on the two students that had been attacked, then the only part that he'd told them that had been true was that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. What Mai had discovered was that the story went deeper than Hashimoto had said.

When Hashimoto first talked to S.P.R. he told them that Matsuyama Tetsuya had been injured due to a crush that Tezuka Eri had on him; what—no, whom being the more operative word- whom the principal _hadn't_ mentioned, and conveniently so, was Tsuchino Fumitaka, Tsuchino Megumi's younger brother who was also in the Kendo club; he was in the same grade as Matsuyama and not as good at Kendo—therefore, he'd never made it to the nationals for Kendo. She picked up another piece of paper. Takano Hikaru, archery club. _She'd_ beaten Hajima Yukari, also an archery club member to regionals and won that tournament, but failed to make it to the nationals due to an injury she sustained in the regionals—the accident that conveniently happened before Hashimoto approached Shibuya Psychic Research. And wasn't that coincidental? Hikaru-san beat Yukari-san, so Yukari-san had her injured with the help of a not-so-friendly-ghost; Tetsuya-san beat Fumitaka-kun to the Kendo Nationals and found himself injured. Mai's eyes narrowed.

Assuming that Tezuka-san hadn't gotten her wish—and she couldn't have still being in possession of the locket, Mai assumed—that left her with where Amano-sensei's injury fit into all of this. It only fit in if Melissa herself had some sort of vendetta against her. Combined with what Lin had told them last night, it was the perfect answer. She just wondered why Melissa hadn't gone after Hirata-san, too. Maybe she couldn't just yet. Mai stood.

"Sebastian-san," she called to the empty air. Oh, if only those three girls could see her now, talking to the empty air!

Sebastian appeared at her side, his eyes glowing. "Taniyama-sama. Did you need my assistance?"

"Yes." Grabbing the demon's arm, she pulled him out of her room and over to the room across the hall. "I need you to get me inside this room."

Sebastian had the grace to look amused. "As you say." Touching the lock with one finger, he shoved the door open and flipped the lights, mindful that she was human and couldn't see in the dark like he could. "What are we searching for?"

Mai moved unerringly towards the books. "I'll know when I find it."

Before she reached the books, she stopped and looked over to a shelf on the far wall. Something there… she went over to it and tilted her head to the side. But what? What was here? Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But there was something _here_, her intuition insisted. So—what? Her eyes continued to rove the shelves. Geisha dolls; Amano-sensei like Geisha dolls. So what, she wondered, her eyes coming to rest on a decidedly odd looking Geisha in a beseeching pose. Her brow rose. You can dress a doll in a miniature kimono, but that doesn't make it a geisha. But there was something about it that was important. She lifted it down and handed it off to Sebastian.

"Ho," the demon said, drawing the sound out and Mai glanced over at him. "Someone put a kimono on the statue of the Morrigan."

Mai's eyes went wide and her head snapped up to him. "That's a statue of the Morrigan? Why would Amano-sensei have it? She's no worshipper. But Melissa was," she murmured, recalling the vision that sent her to the infirmary. "She and Hashimoto-sensei. If Amano-san," she said, dropping the 'sensei' title, "did indeed have something to do with Melissa's death…" Mai trailed off, not sure where she was going with this and frustrated that she didn't know the answer. It would be exceedingly easy for Naru to put it together, she groused. _'But you're not Naru,'_ Lin told her once. _'You're you.'_ "How does it all fit together?" she asked out loud.

Sebastian shook his head, unable to answer. "I don't know, Mai-sama. What should I do with the statue?"

"Hold on to it for now," she said, going back to the bookshelves. "We'll take it with us when we leave." Taking a deep breath, she stood there and simply surveyed the shelves. Surface wise, there was nothing odd. History books, English books, grammar books; C.D.'s on the same subjects, along with DVD's and older video tapes. The overall impression that Mai got was frustration: Amano_ knew_ her stuff, but didn't really know how to convey it to students at all. Therefore, most of the kids couldn't stand her and tended not to listen.

But… Mai was also getting something deeper: an overwhelming sense of guilt. All at once, the space she was staring at inverted itself and she watched a much younger Amano frantically shuffle books onto the bookshelf. She had to hurry because the principal/school owner was making rounds, asking questions; if she was seen with these books, then getting herself kicked out would be the _least_ of her worries. The world righted itself again and sending a quick thanks to Gene, Mai began to pull books out seemingly at random. Some of what she was looking for was stuffed inside other books, some hidden _behind_ other books. Clever, Mai decided, piling up the purloined property. These really didn't hold a clue to where Melissa was, but the fact that they were hers and in a former student, now teacher's room spoke volumes for itself. What they did know was that Melissa was dead and Amano and Hirata were most likely the responsible parties. Beyond that, they had nothing.

"Sebastian-san," Mai called again.

The crow demon was by her side in an instant and he nodded, waving a hand. The books collected themselves and disappeared. Mai assumed they would end up in her room. Mai looked around again but nothing caught her interest—she'd found what she'd needed in this room. It was time to return and comb through the books to see if there was anything useful. She didn't think she'd find anything, but there might be something enabling her to find Melissa.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Sebastian quirked a brow at her. Human expressions had truly changed.

…

By the time Lin arrived back at the school, dusk was closing in rapidly and the sorcerer was dreading each moment. He wasn't sure what to expect, but whatever it was it wouldn't be good. To delay, he stopped a few times on the way back to the studio apartment he'd been given and made small talk—telling the other teachers that asked where he'd been the entire day that he was visiting a sick friend back in Shibuya. Yes, he was doing just fine, just in the doldrums and seeing a friend had helped. Finally bidding them good night, he bolstered himself to deal with whatever was coming his way. As he continued to the studio, he reinforced his shields, determined not to make the same mistake as he had a couple of years ago with Mai's school. Stopping at the door, he rummaged in his pockets for the keys, trying his best to appear harried, instead of prepared for her.

At last, he let himself in and stripped off his coat, discreetly looking around. Of course, he didn't know what he expected her to do—ransack his room? She might soon. Then he got the distinct sense that he wasn't alone, too little, too late because he already knew that. When he finally looked in the direction of the bed, the spell hit him. There, in the middle of the bed lay the student in question, naked as a blue jay with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. His body reacted violently to the spell, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. Angry as he was, it didn't take him more than a second to realize that there was something wrong with this spell—and best of all, he _knew_ this spell. Fueled by anger, he began to gather it so that he could return it to her. First he had to get her out.

He glared at her, but her grin only widened when she saw the noticeable bulge in his pants. Levering herself up, she crawled towards the edge of the bed and beckoned to him to join her. She wasn't Mai, however. He had a sudden vision of Mai in the exact position and his pants grew even more uncomfortable. Eri's smile grew again and she purred, settling herself in the center of the bed, trying to look prim and proper, despite a distinct lack of clothing.

"Sensei…" she breathed. "Come join me, Lin-sensei."

Another vision of Mai in the same position had him throbbing painfully and he narrowed his eyes at the girl, grabbing the rest of the spell and readying himself to shove it back at her. "What do you think you're doing in my room, Tezuka-san?"

His voice was slightly hoarse, but steady for all that and when he didn't move an inch, Eri's smile dimmed. Why wasn't it working? He should have been in a hurry to get out of his clothes and into _her_. Had she done something wrong with the spell? No, she'd followed Melissa's instructions to the letter; maybe it was just a fluke—he was fighting it unsuccessfully. Surely she'd succeed to get him and soon. She smiled at him. "I was waiting for Lin-sensei. I thought he might be lonely and that I could keep him company."

Ignoring the invitation, he gathered the clothing she'd left on the chair and dumped it on her, ignoring her sputter of rage. "You need to leave."

"What?!" she shrieked. "Leave? But… sensei… you want me!" she said, reaching towards the prominent bulge in his pants. "What more proof do you need?"

Oh, he wanted someone all right, but it wasn't her. He evaded her questing hands easily. "Detention for two weeks helping the groundskeeper. And the longer you stay, Tezuka-san, the longer your detention will be. Dress and get out." _Get the locket,_ he told his third Shiki.

Wrathfully, she climbed out of the bed and dressed slowly. She sashayed unhurriedly towards the door, hoping that he would grab her just before she left and fulfill the spell—but he didn't. He didn't even look at her as she unlocked the door and opened it, wondering how this had failed so badly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Lin said, just before she left the studio.

Flushing, she made up her mind to make his life miserable starting tomorrow morning. Locking the door behind her, Lin sagged against the door and then collected the spell and his energy and shoved the enchantment back at Tezuka Eri-san. She stumbled and came to stop, looking behind her, but found the door firmly closed. Deciding it had been her imagination, she walked with injured pride back to her dorm room and went straight to her room, not missing the self-satisfied smirks that told the other students how unlucky she'd been. Little did she know that their smirks were just the beginning.

Still unsettled and still unable to quell the throbbing sensation, he thought of taking a very long and very cold shower, but a radical idea came to him. Mai wouldn't mind… indulging him, right? Really, why not? Their gig would be up tomorrow, anyways. Opening the door, he stepped out and began to make his way towards her dorm.

"Cover me in darkness," he commanded the shadows in a rich voice that held a dizzying cadence.

The shadows reacted and slanted over him, folding him in their depths. He looked like a shadow creeping along the grounds in the building, no one took any notice of him.

…

Mai sat aside yet another book that told her nothing. She was beginning to think that the books held nothing for her and that she was barking up the wrong tree. But that nagging feel insisted that she was wrong. She sat back and smiled at Sebastian who handed her a cup of tea. "No progress yet."

"Perhaps Mai-sama should allow me to go through the books."

"That's probably my next step," she admitted taking a sip and sighing. Then she looked at Sebastian. "What is it?" she asked him quietly.

"Lin-sama is on his way here."

He was? But why? Sebastian went over to the door and opened it just at the exact moment that Lin arrived. "Lin-sama. Is everything all right? Should I make some tea, or perhaps something stronger?"

"Go," Lin ordered and Sebastian felt himself morphing into a crow and flying away, alighting on the branch of a withered tree not in this world and until his master called him back, he wouldn't be in the human world. Mai found herself alone with Lin and for the barest second felt a pinprick of fear before he lifted her and caged her to the wall, kicking the door shut. He looked her in the eyes and while Mai could see him struggling with the carnal demands of whatever that girl had wrought, underneath it, she could still see _him_. She gave a mindless sigh of relief.

"It's you; you understand that, right?" he asked, startling her.

Actually, she didn't and that must have translated to him. "She was right; I wanted someone, but it wasn't her. It's you, Mai. More than I ever thought I'd want or love someone—that's you."

Mai smiled. "I know."

"For the record, if you'd showed up in my room naked as a blue jay, I'd have been inside you so fast you wouldn't have time to breathe."

Actually, he was making her quite breathless as it was. But it was that admission of love that made her all the more breathless because despite being lust-ridden, he was there. A tear slipped down her cheek and he caught it with his lips.

"I don't like that girl."

"Agreed."

"But... it's all coming to an end… this charade of ours, right?"

"Probably ending tomorrow."

"That gives us tonight. It's been hard not having you or being by your side."

Lin felt his heart fall. She hadn't returned his sentiment… Mai gave a strange laugh. "I used to think you were so hard to read. But maybe it was because we weren't involved and I was scared of you. XingXu," she said, using his given Chinese name, "I've loved you for a while. I was thinking about just how much I love you when we at the Takamoto's and its been on my mind ever since. Let's not do this here. Anywhere but against the wall. This isn't a quickie we're talking about."

"No," he agreed, carting her unerringly to the jammed bedroom. "But what a wonderful idea you've given me," he said his smile wicked. When he entered, the blinds opened to the brilliant starlight and the furniture scooted itself to the far walls, away from the bed. Mai looked at the extraneous pieces with amusement.

"Who needs a moving company?"

His laugh was hoarse and the room went dark, the only source of light being the stars. He lowered them gently to the bed. They undressed each other slowly; Mai delighted in the feel of his skin, especially against her own; she loved the feeling of his muscles moving under her hands as she stroked up and down. A caress here, and there; a kiss here, a kiss there, as he finally got to remove the ugly uniform from her body. Holding her eyes, he slipped into her slowly and watched as her eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh escaped her lips. They moved slowly, despite how frantic they wanted to be; it was a night for lovers, not frantic bouts of sex. There was plenty of time for that, they knew.

It was an hour before dawn when Lin, finally sated and no longer under the spell's influence left Mai's room, folding the shadows around him as he did before. It wouldn't do to be seen by early-riser's leaving the girls dormitory even if they were revealing their true colors today. Before he got back to his small apartment, he was received a visit just before he could make it inside. There was no mistaking whom. He frowned and offered her a short bow.

"Don't expect me to forgive your pupil. She could have made a different choice."

_'You're right. But she did what she thought would get her back to her loved one.'_ The smile scared Lin. _'In the end, her choice brought __**you all**__ here to this school. And you'll be able to find her body.'_

"Pawns, eh?" He received no answer and he hadn't expected one. "Answer me this, then, Morrigan-sama: did you choose her because you _knew_ she would die here? I can't imagine that you'd choose a follower like her if not."

He received no answer and again he wasn't surprised. The Morrigan faded away, leaving behind a peculiar bouquet: one lotus, one marigold, one orange lily, and one white blossom that he wasn't sure of. They were arranged in a specific order: the orange lily, the marigold, the unknown blossom, and finally the lotus and he had the feeling that once he figured out the white one, it would make a sense. Gathering them up just as he saw them, Lin got the feeling that The Morrigan was absolutely furious about what had happened to her practitioner. He was also sure that she knew what happened, but as was the case of any pantheon, couldn't interfere directly. He narrowed his eyes. "I get it. You want us to find what happened to her and find her body. That's why Hashimoto-sensei brought us here, too. Why couldn't he have just told us that?" he grumbled. "Why the smoke and mirrors?"

Entering the apartment, he opened the closet and stopped the camera feed. Bringing the laptop over to the bed, he noticed the freshly changed sheets and thanked whichever of his Shikigami thought to change them. Looking at the clock, he saw that he had just enough time. After he burned the pertinent parts (however embarrassing they were for him) and a quick Google search to name the unknown flower, he crawled under the covers and slept. His alarm rang at seven-fifteen promptly. He debated with himself for a few seconds—surely fifteen more minutes couldn't hurt. In the end, he slept until quarter to before he dragged himself out of bed and took a long, hot, shower before dressing and downing some coffee. It was time to meet with the principal.

Hashimoto blinked at Lin when he walked in and shut the door. "Lin…sa—sensei," he clarified. "What brings you here so early? School doesn't start until nine."

Without a word, Lin plunked one of the DVD's down on the desk. "We're going to have ourselves a chat soon, Hashimoto-san. You, me, Naru, Mai, and Matsuzaki-san. And when we do, you're going to tell us the whole truth."

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying."

"I don't care. And to be perfectly frank with you, I'm in a very bad mood today, so when we do have our meeting, remember that and try not to lie to us." He slid a digital photograph over to him and stood, making his way to the office door.

"Umm…Lin-sensei… what is the meaning of this picture?"

Lin paused and turned back slightly. "You don't know? The Morrigan left those for me. An orange lily, an orange mock, a lotus flower, and a marigold."

"I'm… not very well-versed in flowers or their meanings."

"Watch the DVD, Hashimoto-sensei. I need to prepare."

Curious, Hashimoto plugged the DVD into the computer. A few minutes later, he was pulling a file and dialing a number. "Tezuka Junpei, please, this is Hashimoto-sensei from Setsuda Prepatory. Can it wait? No, it can't; it's about his daughter. Yes, I'll hold." Elevator music replaced the secretary for a few moments until another voice, extremely harried, came on the line. "Tezuka-san? It's Hashimoto. I apologize for calling you away from work, but you need to come to my office; it's about your daughter and whether or not she stays at this school." He looked at the DVD and wondered why a man like Lin set up cameras in his room in the first place. "I'd rather I didn't say over a phone. It's something that you need to see. Yes, thank you."

….

Lin's bad mood intensified when he walked into the classroom. The only thing that helped him keep his temper was the knowledge that today was the absolute _last_ day of teaching. Tezuka Eri stood amidst a small group of girls—the spell he'd returned to her causing some of the other girls in class to look at her with disdain and a distinct air of boredom; one student connected her eyes with his and rolled her eyes at the theatrics. He smirked a bit at that. He sighed then. Might as well get the day over with as soon as possible.

"Take your seats," he announced, looking over at Mai who flipped through a lesson's book, bored. The small group didn't move. Eri sniffed loudly. Lin gave another sigh. "Take your seats," he repeated. "I won't tell you again. Anyone not in his or her seat by the time I start to call roll will be counted as absent and given a month of detention."

"Sensei is so cruel," one girl said, glaring at him. "Forcing a beautiful young girl to submit to your carnal desires! Wait until Principal Hashimoto hears about this!"

He glanced over at Mai; she continued to flip through the book. He certainly hadn't forced her to do anything. "Akhibara Kenta."

"Here."

He moved to the next name. "Fujiwara, Hazuki." When she didn't respond, but glowered at him, he merely said, "Absent. One week of detention, helping in the dining hall."

She stared at him stunned as he marked her absent and then notated her detention. "Hey…" she asked, "was he actually being _serious_?"

_He rarely jokes,_ Mai thought, smiling at the text she was flipping through blindly.

"Fuminoto, Risami?" His visible eye speared her standing in the circle and he said with an odd derision, "Also absent; you will be helping Fujiwara-san in the dining hall. Fuminoto Yuki?"

"Here, sensei."

The list went on. The students who hadn't been called but were still standing slowly filtered into the seats and answered the roll call.

He called the last name: the 'student' that had been added a few days ago. "Taniyama, Mai."

"Here, Lin-sensei."

"Those who I marked as absent but are actually here, remove yourselves to the hallway. I'll deal with you after class. The rest of you, open your work books to page one-oh-seven. We're going to discuss compound sentences and what punctuation is used."

Turning the board, he began to write a few basic sentences. He didn't stop even though he felt an incredibly angry source headed towards the classroom. The door flew open and Lin paused, looking over to the door. Three people stepped into the classroom—one was the teacher Akinata-sensei; one was the principal Hashimoto-sensei, and the other was a man that bore a strong resemblance to Tezuka Eri.

"Daddy!" she cried out.

Shooting his daughter a disapproving look, the man stepped over to Lin, his lean face angry. Eri smiled. Oh, this was going to be good. She sat back with a smirk to enjoy the show. What she saw, however, was not what she expected. Her father bowed low to Lin and said, "Lin-sensei! Please forgive my child! Her mother and I must not have raised her properly!"

"Er…" When Lin had given the DVD to Hashimoto, he hadn't expected this to happen. He'd been doing just fine without the dramatics. He felt a headache begin to blossom.

"Daddy!" Eri squawked, jumping from her seat. "It was his fault! He forced _me_."

Tezuka Junpei shot his daughter a nasty look. "The DVD your principal just showed me proves otherwise."

The whispers amongst her classmates broke out immediately. Eri hadn't told them of a video. Then again, from the stunned look on her face, she hadn't known, either. Her eyes slid over to Lin-sensei: he had a tiny, but satisfied smirk on his face. Lin was not a trusting man—he never had been. And having the feeling that that girl would do something to force his hand, he set up a few video cameras that fed directly to the computer. Everything that she'd done—breaking into his apartment, stripping her clothing, and waiting for him; and everything that Lin had done: turning away, telling her to leave, had all been captured. He'd edited out the part where he went to Mai.

Hashimoto went to the front of the class and beckoned Akinata in. "Class, Akinata-sensei will be taking over for a study hall for today. You will study amongst yourselves or work on incomplete assignments. Tezuka Eri-san, Lin-sensei, Taniyama-san if you'll accompany me to my office." He'd phrased it as a question, but there was little doubt in Eri's mind that it wasn't a request. She didn't know why Taniyama had been included, however. Lin-sensei she understood, but Taniyama? She wasn't given the time to contemplate further. Turning, Hashimoto left the classroom. Under her father's glower, Eri stood reluctantly and followed, her father bringing up the rear.

Lin put down the chalk and looked at Mai expectantly. Closing the book and storing it in the cubby where it belonged, she stood and approached him. Grabbing her hand, he easily tugged her over to his side and wrapped his arm around her waist, escorting her out of the classroom amidst whispers and points that started. Mai smirked up at him and slipped her own arm around him. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes." And indeed Mai could feel and see the relief on his face. "Yes. I'm free from being a teacher. We're going to wrap this up soon. Best of all, you're by my side, where I like you best."

Incredibly touched, Mai brought them to a stop and stood on tip-toe, giving him a soft kiss. "I hated high school anyways."

…

Naru sat on the opposite side of the principal's desk looking for all the world like he owned the place. It was ironic that he looked so in-command there, in a seat reserved for students who were about to receive a lecture—Masaharu felt like he was about to be on the receiving end of a lecture instead of giving one. Shibuya-san would make a dynamite, if terrifying, school principal if he ever decided to become one, he thought. For the sake of students and other school principals alike, he hoped the young man never decided to become anything related to teaching. Naru tapped on the photos that Lin had given to Hashimoto along with the DVD. When Lin, Matsuzaki, and Mai filed in, he nodded to them; it was time to start.

"This time Hashimoto-sensei, I would like the entire truth. The reason you brought us here had nothing to do with kids practicing black magic. What did you really want us to do?"

For a few seconds, Hashimoto debated with himself. If he told them the truth could he guarantee that they'd help him? The Morrigan was extremely insistent that her follower be found and buried properly. Peeking at Lin, he realized that there were no guarantees with this group. But he could hope. Clasping his hands, he said, "I brought you all here to find my former lover's body."

Naru nodded. "Her name was Melissa Ann LaQuis, correct?"

"Correct."

"She came from Savannah, Georgia," Mai said.

"That she did."

"You two met a coven meeting when your parents sent you to America to improve your English," Mai continued.

Hashimoto looked at Mai, disturbed. This group was better than he thought. "What else do you know?"

"I know that you two came to worship The Morrigan when she killed off a bunch of ghouls one Halloween night in old cemetery where you were looking for a grave. You never found the grave, did you?"

Masaharu smiled in remembrance. "Actually, we did. Colonel Robin Peterson of the Fifth Infantry Regiment. He survived the Civil War but died in 1879 from Yellow Fever—a disease that's spread by misquitos. The truly ironic thing was that it was his grave that we'd been trapped against when The Morrigan came and saved us. But after that, we became devout followers."

"Hashimoto-sensei," Mai asked, "why was Melissa exorcised?"

Masaharu frowned. "Melli never liked to talk about it, but once she told me about it. Her father… he couldn't stand the fact that his first and only offspring was girl, and that she was so different from her parents. Where her parents were lazy, she was active; where her parents hosted parties for charities, Melli worked with the homeless shelters and donated money that she earned from her tutoring. They didn't understand each other and I got the distinct feeling that the fact that she actually _did_ good, rather than just donate to whatever cause suited her father's fancy frightened them."

"But how does that explain the exorcism?" Naru asked.

"Her father," he said simply. "He paid a priest to do an exorcism—anything he could do to get rid of this child that he didn't want. When it was beyond clear that she wasn't possessed he sent her here and washed his hands of her."

Lin took the locket out of his pocket. Before class, he'd sealed it in a plastic bag. Laying it on the table he asked, "What is the significance of this?"

Tears sprung to Hashimoto's eyes and he reached out a trembling hand towards it, picking it up. Letting the tears fall, he brought the bag to his lips and kissed it. "It was mine," he said quietly. "Actually, it was my mother's. I gave it to Melissa as proof of our soon-to-be-engagement. After she disappeared, I have no idea what happened to it."

"Then that's another aspect of what we need to discover," Naru said matter-of-factly.

Taking the locket back, Lin said, "The Morrigan wants us to find her, too. She left these for me earlier this morning," he said, showing the same picture of flowers. "Are you sure you don't know their meaning?"

Masaharu grimaced. "Melissa was better with flowers and their meanings."

"The order is important, too. Think of a Tarot spread—a basic one of sorts." Lin waved his hand over the photo. "The orange lily symbolizes wealth, pride, hatred, and disdain. Back in Savannah, Melissa LaQuis came from an old family and a wealthy one. Hatred and disdain can apply to her father, but also to the party responsible for her death—perhaps they hated the wealth she came from along with the person she was in love with." He tapped the second blossom. "The marigold stands for affection, cruelty, grief, and jealousy. Your affection, perhaps, hers for you; or it could be affection from a third source—if it is a third source's affection, then the other three meanings make sense as we don't know what exactly happened to your girlfriend." Now he circled the third blossom and tapped it with his finger. "The orange mock blossom, in this case, will be the key to this entire mystery because it means deceit. There's something we're not seeing and when we uncover that, it should explain everything. And finally," he said tapping the last flower, "the lotus stands for mystery and truth. This I think stands for what your goddess and you want: to know what happened to Melissa."

Throughout it all, Hashimoto listened to Lin's descriptions, riveted. "I'm amazed by you, Lin-san. Say you're right and it feels like you are, what are your next steps?"

"We'd like to talk to Eri and her two friends about the locket," Naru said.

"Tezuka-san I understand as she's in possessing of the locket, by why the other two?"

"We believe that the accidents that brought you to us were done by Melissa at the directive of those young ladies," Ayako announced.

Masaharu shook his head and looked at her condescendingly. "Matsuzaki-san… Melissa isn't capable of that. The karma would be too great for her to contemplate. Did you not hear me when I said she did good?"

"When she was alive," Ayako responded flatly. "She's dead, however. And that karma you're telling me about—she's pretty desperate to be found, karma be damned. As long as she is, I think she's willing to do anything. Your own goddess is practically telling you the same thing."

That hit Masaharu like a brick and his eyes widened. He could see it plain as day now that she'd said it. Truthfully, he knew in his heart of hearts that Melissa had been the responsible party for the attacks; he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself—he wanted to believe that some kids had found some old spell books and decided to cast a few spells. What he didn't know was why or what had happened to her. That was why he'd brought this group in. He looked at the assembled group, the guilt plain on his face. Naru sighed.

"Hashimoto-sensei, why did you lie to us?"

His laugh was derisive and desperate. "Who was going to believe me if I asked you to find my girlfriend's body because she's responsible for three separate attacks?"

"We would have," Naru announced, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "If you'd told us the truth instead of lying, we wouldn't be in this predicament, either. Now we have to start from square one." The young ghost hunter got to his feet. "We're going to talk to those three young ladies, now."

The others filed out, but Naru held back and turned to Hashimoto. The man looked miserable and the tears were beginning again as the man wiped his eyes and his scrubbed his cheeks to get rid of the residue from previous tears. That didn't lessen his anger and it out-shone the pity Naru felt for the poor man. "Hashimoto-sensei… I'll probably regret saying this later, but for now I believe it justified. I've never once set a price for my services. My creed has always been that customers give what they can afford to. Then again, I've never had so many people lie to me just to get me to look into a case; it will make me much more cautious in the future as a consequence. But just this once, Hashimoto-san, I'm going to set a price and I'll expect you to pay it."

The main gave him a painful smile. "I understand, Shibuya-san. For the record, I'm truly sorry for all the lies."

Giving the principal a curt nod, Naru left and rejoined his associates.

"Let me try and talk to them first," Lin said. "I might be able to guilt them into talking."

Naru nodded.

"Naru, why don't we all go back to my room? I found some books that might be helpful, although truthfully, I'm not sure how."

"Books? Where?" Lin asked.

"Amano-sensei's room is right across the hall from mine. I…borrowed Sebastian-san to get me in and took an informal peek around."

Lin smirked, bent, and kissed her cheek. "We've become a bad influence on you. I'll rejoin you soon," he told the group.

…

Eri and her friends, Megumi and Yukari sat a table in the conference room. Eri was waiting for the principal to decide her fate here at the school. What Megumi and Yukari were doing here, she didn't know. The door opened and she looked up, surprised to see Lin-sensei walk in at take a seat.

"Lin-sensei," she murmured.

"Just Lin-san. I was only posing as a teacher."

"Why?" she asked.

"Hashimoto-sensei hired the company I work for to find something. Actually, no, he originally hired us to find out if there were kids practicing black magic—the accidents, you understand. That was partially a ruse to get us here. What he really wants is for us to locate a body."

"A body?" Eri asked, more confused by the moment.

"The person who wore this locket," he said, holding it up for her to see. He snatched it back when she lunged for it. "It's not yours, he told her severely. "It belonged to a young lady named Melissa LaQuis—she was an American transfer student. Beyond that we know very little. Where did you find it?" he asked, addressing the three opposite of him.

Eri stayed resolutely silent and focused on anything but him. He looked at the other two expectantly, his visible eye totally serious; the look he gave them was heavy—that was the only way for Eri to describe it.

"Ladies? Where did you find the locket?" he asked, his gaze still expectant.

It was Yukari who broke first. There was something about his stare—penetrating, she thought. It was like he could see right through her and it scared her. "In the library."

"Yukari!" Megumi hissed.

"The library?" Lin asked totally focused on Yukari.

Blushing to the roots of her short dark hair, Yukari gulped and went on, "We were in the stacks—you know, the very, very back of the library where all the really old books're kept," she said, miming how far back they'd been. "We'd been eating lunch and griping to each other. See, Hikaru had just beaten me in the archery tournament and Tetsuya had beaten Fumi—Megu's brother—in a tournament. Umm…"

"Go on," Lin encouraged.

Yukari gulped and looked at Megumi, who looked back at her, then away to Eri, then back to Yukari. Lin sighed.

"Ladies, _I_ don't care what you guys did. I simply want to know how you found the locket and the events thereafter."

Looking askance at her friends, Megumi picked up the tale. "We were letting off steam about how angry we were," she whispered. "And I hit the bookshelf with my shinai. The bookshelf fell—well, that one's always been unstable so the librarian tells everyone to stay away from it; we have lunch there because well…"

"You have problems accepting authority, I get it," Lin finished. "What happened when the shelf fell?" He blocked out the rare memory of shelves falling on him. Unpleasant though it had been, it brought Mai into his life.

"We noticed that there was a…package—a really old one—I don't eve know how it got behind the bookshelf, but we snuck it into Eri's bag and fled. After school, we gathered in her room and opened it, and there was the locket!"

_And Melissa,_ Lin thought.

"One more question. Did you make a deal with her—like say, for revenge against classmates… or a teacher to grace one's bed," he asked, his eyes drifting to Eri who tossed her head and looked away.

He actually didn't need them to answer—the looks on their faces gave them away. Sighing, he rose from the chair. "Thank you, ladies. You can wait quietly while Principal Hashimoto decides your punishments."

"Tell me, Lin-san… is Taniyama-san your main squeeze?" Eri asked.

"That's not your business," he responded.

Eri smirked. "She is, isn't she? Did she tell you about Kenjirou-kun who asked her out? After all, everyone knows that she's been eyeing him at lunch."

If she expected him to have a momentary stab of fear or panic, she was sorely mistaken and one look at his handsome face proved that he knew she was lying. Mai hadn't been eyeing _anyone_. She'd kept to herself and eaten lunch alone on the rooftop. Had any boy in this school up and out of the blue asked Mai out, she'd have known something was up and ripped the young man a new one. She'd fume about it for the rest of the day, too. Lin smirked—actually smirked; his visible eye looked greatly amused. "You must think I don't know my girlfriend at all. She ate her lunch on the roof alone for the past week; she wasn't eyeing anyone—nor did she care about any of the boys in the class, either. But that was a nice try, Tezuka-san—trying to make me worry about Mai and whether or not she could be taken away from me by one of the young men here. Actually, to be honest with you I expected you to engineer something along those lines. But I'll tell you something that Mai told me a few years ago: after our first kiss, she told me that I'd just spoiled her for all the other boys." He smirked again. "Her words, Tezuka-san, not mine."

With that, he left the conference room and headed back to the principal's office where the man in question was meeting with the parents of the three young ladies he'd just left. Knocking on the door once, he opened it and said, "They're all yours, ladies and gentlemen."

Giving a short bow, he walked out of the room and made his way to Mai's dorm room. They were back to square one, but at least they wouldn't be going around in circles.

…

Something was up, Sam thought, eyeing Jeffrey suspiciously. The man lounged in the chair next to him and had nothing with him, save his cell phone. He asked, "Where's your laptop?"

Jeff opened one eye and looked at his soon to be former boss. "Packed away and on the plane with the rest of our luggage," he said with a yawn. "I'd like to just sleep on the plane and not do any work—I wouldn't be able to focus much anyways, I'm afraid."

Sam nodded, feeling oddly relieved. Jeff got that way, sometimes. And he'd been running non-stop since he'd gotten to Japan. It was only natural that he'd like to rest for a bit. "Maybe you should take a holiday."

Jeff didn't bother responding. He was going to take one soon. He took an even breath. "That'd be nice. Maybe I'll return to Japan and visit the Onsen Springs. I hear they're wonderful for relaxing."

"If you'd like too," Sam said.

Just then, his flight was called in Japanese, English, and every other language imaginable. Jeff stood and grabbed Sam's carry-on tote and walked with his boss to the gates. Just before joining the line, he stepped away. Sam looked at him suspiciously. "Jeff?"

"This is for you," the man said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out an envelope. "It's my resignation letter." He handed the carry-on to his former boss. "Have a safe flight back, Sam."

McLaughlin was speechless. "What's the meaning of this, Jeff? You can't quit."

"I just did. I need some time to prioritize my options. And I _need_ to talk to my son. He's my son, Mr. McLaughlin."

He shoved the letter back at Jeff who moved away, refusing to take it back. "So why are you quitting?" he asked, frustrated. "Just take that holiday I was talking about."

"I told you: I need to prioritize my life—get things in order and what not. I'll return to the States when I've done that." He looked at the line. "You'd better hurry or you'll miss your flight, Mr. McLaughlin."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me, Jeff?"

"Have a safe trip back to New York," Jeff said, nodding and backing away.

A chill went up McLaughlin's spine. He'd said New York—not Georgia, not the United States. Specifically New York and this was a one-way trip, no pit stops along the way. "What have you done?"

But Jeff didn't answer and McLaughlin was hustled along onto the plane with the crowd. As soon as his former boss was out of his sight, Jeff pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and said to the person on the other end, "On the plane and on his way."

"You have one week, Mr. Smith. Make the best of it."

"I will."

…

Hirota hung up and looked at the people in New York. Amazing that they were on the other side of the globe, he mused. Technology certainly was incredible. "That was Jeffrey Smith-san. He said that McLaughlin-san is on the plane and on his way."

"We'll be there waiting," Frank promised.

Hirota nodded. "We will keep the shoes for a bit—until Taniyama-san returns and gets rid of Annabelle. After that, we will Air Mail them back."

"We'd appreciate that."

"Commissioner Regan, have you thought to take a vacation to the Onsen's yourself?" Hirota asked. "You should think about it. And you should meet the employees at Shibuya Psychic Research."

"I just might do that," Frank told him. "If I do, I'll be sure to stop in and say hello. Thank you for all your assistance, Detective Hirota. It's been a great honor working with you and Detective Genda and Masuda."

Hirota smiled. "Likewise, Commissioner."

They clicked off and Frank turned to his son and his partner. He should be back in about thirteen hours or so. It's a one-way flight, no pit stops. Go home detectives and get some sleep."

"Yes sir," they both answered.

"And detectives, thank you for your assistance in this matter. If you all would like to take vacation-time, I will personally clear it with your Sergeant."

~Owari.

So, we're getting down to the wire. McLaughlin's on his way back to America. In the next chapter, the hunt for Melissa's body begins and hopefully ends; McLaughlin returns to the States, and well, I can't give the rest away. But look forward to it! And, as always, leave me many, many reviews. ^_^


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